Sophomores, Freshmen, and a Love Story
by Classy Venus
Summary: Yami, Marik, and Bakura are off at college preparing for their new lives. Yuugi, Malik, and Ryou are left to deal with their current ones. Disaster, ruin, and scandal wait around every turn. But when has being in love ever been easy? Yami/Hikari
1. The Beginning

**A/N:**

Hello, everyone, and welcome to **Sophomores, Freshmen, and a Love Story**! First off, if you haven't read the prequel, **Seniors, Freshmen, and a Learning Experience**, I recommend you do so. Not because I want to shamelessly promote my own work, but because chances are, you will have no clue what's going on in this story if you don't first read the prequel. Unless you're the type that enjoys being confused. If that's you, then by all means, read on!

Check out this cool beans summary I wrote up!

"Following the prequel, three teens by the names of Yami, Bakura and Marik go off to college to pursue their own individual dreams, leaving behind their significant others, Yuugi, Ryou, and Malik. While Malik and Yuugi also make advancements in their futures, Ryou is left behind without a clue as to what his future holds. But, as you will find is typical, disasters and obstacles lurk around every curve. With love and life, things are never simply black and white."

**Disclaimer:**

Don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!. Enjoy!

* * *

**Friday, Ahknemkhanen Estate, Early Morning**

Just as the sun came fully up over the horizon, Yami slammed the trunk of his car down and heaved a tired sigh. He had just finished jamming all of his suitcases into his sleek, black, sports utility vehicle. Turning to Yuugi, who was standing on the sidewalk next to Yami's parents, he gave the small teen a weary smile. Yuugi managed to give his boyfriend a smile back, biting down hard on his bottom lip to keep it from trembling. "I guess that's everything," Yami stated simply, for lack of anything better to say. He took a hesitant step towards his family.

Yuugi let out a quiet whimper, releasing some of the pain behind his tortured eyes, and threw himself forward at his boyfriend, grabbing onto the older teen's jacket collar and burying his face in the folds of the cloth. Yami's arms quickly wrapped around the younger teen to catch him, and he mumbled words of comfort as he rocked back and forth, blinking away unshed tears of his own.

"I'm so sorry, Yami," Yuugi repeated over and over hysterically.

"For what?" he asked curiously, placing a kiss on top of Yuugi's head. He breathed in the scent of the younger teen's shampoo, letting the scent calm his frazzled nerves.

"I should be happy for you. You're going off to college, and it really is a wonderful thing! I just can't help but hate it!" he wailed, snapping his head up to look at Yami while frantically wiping the tear stains off of his cheeks.

"I don't want to leave you, Yuugi," Yami confessed sincerely, "But I have to. Promise me that you won't forget to write me letters and call me whenever you can."

They clung to each other there by the curb, watched by Yami's parents. Mr. Ahknemkhanen's face was in its usual smooth, emotionless expression, but Yami's mother looked oddly sympathetic. She gazed at her son and Yuugi in a way that could almost be considered motherly. Even so, she stood resolutely aside her husband, not daring to voice her emotions. Instead, she rolled up her sleeve and glanced at her watch. Noting the time, she cleared her throat. "Atem," she began, "It's time for you to get going."

"I understand," Yami replied, staring deep into Yuugi's eyes. The younger teen's expression nearly broke his heart. Without another word, he pecked Yuugi quickly on the lips and untangled their limbs. Striding around to the driver's side of the car, he got in quickly and slammed the door shut.

Yuugi walked back to the curb, dragging his feet on the pavement. He resumed his place next to Mrs. Ahknemkhanen and waved slowly as Yami drove down the road towards the sunrise. He didn't stop waving until the vehicle was but a pinprick on the horizon. A few seconds later, it vanished from sight completely. He was gone.

* * *

**Saturday, Domino City Airport, Morning**

A lonesome sigh, lost in the thick crowd of people around him, passed Malik's slightly parted lips. He pressed his fingertips to the glass wall of the airport, staring almost lifelessly at the jet that would be taking Marik away from him. It was in moments like this that he found himself wondering why he didn't accept Marik's invitation to go with him to America. Quickly noticing that he was brooding, the teen stepped away from the glass and turned to face the crowd, hoping their bustle and noise would distract him, if only for a moment.

Then, the crowd seemed almost to part as Marik strode towards him, followed at a distance by several men carrying his suitcases. He was wearing a freshly laundered Domino High football jersey and ripped jeans. Malik noted that his boyfriend could pull that outfit off, even though he was to be riding in a sleek, private jet. Marik could pull off whatever he pleased anymore, it seemed. Shaking his head to clear his scattered thoughts, Malik waited patiently for Marik to reach him. When he did, the taller blond enveloped him in a strong embrace. Malik delicately wound his arms around Marik's neck and brought the older teen's head down to meet his. He pressed his lips gently to the others, only to have them parted quickly as Marik slipped his tongue in. Rocking his hips back and forward slightly, Malik absently threaded a hand through Marik's hair as they said their passionate goodbye.

"You know," Marik began musingly as they parted momentarily, "There's still time to change your mind."

"Don't tempt me," Malik countered back playfully, leaning his head up again and silencing all other comments from Marik.

Behind him, someone cleared their throat loudly. Marik turned his head to gaze at the interrupter through half-lidded eyes. "You really ought to get that checked," he commented.

"Sir, your jet is ready to take off," the man said, running his hands down his suit in a nervous gesture, as if to smooth out any creases or wrinkles.

Marik squeezed Malik one last time before kissing him lovingly on the forehead. "Try not to have too much fun without me, alright? And if a stranger offers you a ride, only go with him if he has candy."

Without further comment, Marik untangled his limbs from Malik's, turned, and followed the man in the suit over into the crowd, and they were gone. Malik resolutely turned his attention back to the window and watched mutely as the airplanes came and went on and off of the tarmac. Not so much as a whimper escaped his lips a few moments later as he saw the familiar Tokoshie family jet take off into the cloudless, blue sky.

* * *

**Domino City Airport, Night**

As the weather forecast had promised, the rain poured out of the sky violently, pounding against the glass wall of the airport. Ryou and Bakura stared out at the tarmac together, each lost in their own thoughts. Their fingers were tangled together between them tightly. Bakura's flight was delayed until the storm let up, according to the forecast, the next morning. Rather than leaving and coming back, the two were determined to wait out the storm together.

Together. What a curious word. Ryou found himself thinking this as he watched the onslaught of water hitting the glass forcefully. Bakura insisted that his leaving wouldn't change a thing, that they would still be together. But they wouldn't still be together. They would be an ocean apart. Ryou glanced up at Bakura with a hint of bitterness in his warm, brown eyes. Instead of settling on the school that had accepted him right there in Japan, the older teen had changed his mind, deciding on a branch of the same prestigious school over in America. The deciding factor, Ryou had surmised, was that it was a mere thirty minutes by car from the college Marik was accepted to. Ryou knew that he should be happy for his boyfriend, but he almost couldn't take being second to Marik in Bakura's world.

Bakura stirred Ryou out of his thoughts with a kiss to his temple. "Tired?" he asked, noticing the way the smaller teen's eyelids were fluttering.

"Not really," Ryou said quietly, stifling a yawn.

"Sure you're not," Bakura agreed sarcastically, guiding Ryou over to the row of chairs in front of the window, sitting down, and pulling him up onto his lap. The smaller teen let his head fall onto Bakura's shoulder, noticing absentmindedly how incredibly comfortable it was. Bakura ran his hands up and down Ryou's back, through his hair, and over his shoulders in a comforting gesture. It had been a stressful day for the teen. First, he worried over the weather report, hoping that the pilot of the Necrophades' private jet wouldn't want to take off regardless of the conditions. Then, he worried about what Bakura had packed, going over the list of essentials again and again until Bakura had to lock him in the closet to get him to calm down. When they were leaving for the airport, Ryou worried about the road conditions due to the storm. He had spent nearly the entire time at the airport worrying about what his parents were going to say when he didn't show up at home until the next morning. Bakura had finally let him use his cell phone to call his parents. Even when they assured him it was fine, Ryou still couldn't calm down. He had paced the floor ceaselessly until Bakura made him stand still by his side.

An attendant came up to them with two fluffy blankets in her arms. Bakura ignored the woman as she set them down on the chair next to him, and he glared at her as she began to say something. The teen then let his gaze drift down to Ryou, who was finally peaceful and sound asleep.

* * *

**Sunday, Mutou Household, Morning**

The simple gray alarm clock on Yuugi's nightstand began its shrill call, and he groaned tiredly. Nevertheless, he sat up and rubbed at his bleary eyes with a curled hand. Shutting off his alarm tiredly, Yuugi swung his legs off of the bed and stood up slowly. He had to help with the game shop today, and that unfortunately included waking up early to open said game shop. Stripping out of his pajamas, Yuugi grabbed a pair of light wash jeans off of the floor and pulled them on. He next picked up a t-shirt and turned to look at himself in the full-length mirror hanging on his closet door. The small teen chuckled to himself as he ran his index finger over the slight discoloration on the skin over his collarbone. Yami could get very possessive at times. "Yami," Yuugi murmured longingly, pulling his t-shirt on.

Leaving his bedroom, the teen tiptoed down the hallway, careful not to wake his grandfather. Sugoroku was feeling under the weather and needed his rest. Yuugi was extremely concerned about his grandfather and had offered to call the doctor multiple times, but each time, Sugoroku had refused help. The man was stubborn, if anything.

Down in the kitchen, there was a package wrapped up in red crepe paper and tied with a white ribbon. Yuugi blinked twice, unsure of what he was seeing. Next to the package was a plain white card. Picking up the card, the teen read it and found out that all it had on it was his name. Turning back to the package, Yuugi examined it more closely. It was rectangular in shape and not very impressive looking. When he picked it up, Yuugi found out that it was too heavy for him to carry! Dropping it back onto the table with an audible bang, he pulled the delicate ribbon off and tore the crepe paper. It was a book. A very large cookbook, to be precise. Yuugi's face lit up with pure delight. On the inside cover was a message. "Stay busy while I'm away. -Yami".

* * *

**Sunday, Ishtar Household, Morning**

Isis put down the receiver of the phone with a soft sigh. She had just finished settling matters with the principal of Domino High. Due to Malik's arrangements over in Germany, they had to come up with an alternative plan for his normal education. That alternate plan was cyber schooling. "Just perfect," Isis said to herself somewhat glumly, "Where am I going to get a laptop for Malik?"

"Isis?" Malik asked curiously, coming down the staircase. All he had caught out of his sister's spoken thought was his own name. "What's the matter?"

"It's nothing," Isis stated calmly, though her mind was in a turmoil. It had been almost too much of a strain on their finances to come up with the money for a plane ticket as well as sufficient funds for his stay over in Germany. She would also somehow manage the cost of cyber schooling, but poor Isis was lost as to how the already tight budget would allow for a decent computer for her brother. "Would you go get the mail, please?" she asked, voice wavering slightly as she bit down on her thumbnail.

Malik obeyed his sister's request silently. Pushing open the heavy, wooden front door with his shoulder, the troublesome door always required a bit of extra force to open, the teen walked down the path through their front yard to the curb. Opening up the battered mailbox, he peered inside quickly before snatching the pile of letters inside. Gently shutting the lid to the rusted box, he hurried back inside. "Isis!" he called out, "I have the mail."

"Thank you, Brother," Isis thanked Malik, taking the envelopes out of the boy's hand. She flipped through the stack of papers, glancing at the return addresses as she flicked by them. There, at the very end of the pile, was a letter addressed to Malik. "Here," Isis said, handing Malik his mail.

The teen scanned the front of the envelope. He rarely ever got mail, not even letters from his brother. "It's from Marik!" he announced happily, if not a bit bewilderedly. Tearing the letter open, all he found was a slip of paper. "Isis, what-" he stopped, eyes growing wide in disbelief. It was a check.

* * *

**Sunday, Bakura Household, Morning**

Ryou yawned, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the coffeepot on the kitchen counter. His parents had left an hour ago for church, whereas he had just woken up. 'Yes, sleeping in is quite a bonus for renouncing one's religion,' Ryou thought to himself as he sipped the strong liquid, swallowing it with some difficulty. His eyes roamed the kitchen, searching for something he could eat for breakfast. It was not as if he was hungry or anything. No, he just knew that he ought to be eating more. Ryou had dropped an alarming amount of weight over the past few weeks, and he wasn't sure what the cause of it was. He hadn't confided his concerns in Bakura, as he usually did. With his boyfriend going away to college, the last thing Ryou wanted was to have the older teen worrying about him. The teen felt a cough tickling his throat, so he set his coffee mug down. What he thought was a light cough quickly turned into a painful one that, in the back of his mind, reminded the teen of the attack he had that night at the party nearly a year ago. His body convusled painfully as he gasped for air desperately, clutching at his throat.

After it had finally passed, the teen tried to gather his bearings. He had slumped onto the cold kitchen tile with an iron grip on the counter top. In the throes of his coughing fit, he had knocked his mug onto the floor, spilling the scalding hot liquid all over the place. Shakily picking himself up off of the floor, Ryou rubbed at his face tiredly before heading to the closet to find a mop.

* * *

**A/N:**

Urk. Everyone gets nice presents except for Ryou. What could this mean for our poor friend? Mwahaha, you'll see…

It's a shame that I've got nothing for chapter two. This may be the only update on the sequel for quite a bit. I just wanted to prove that I'm still alive by bringing you wonderful readers this!

**In the next exciting installment of **_**Sophomores, Freshmen, and a Love Story**_: (A longer word count hopefully. 2900 words is unacceptable to my high standards of document length.) Malik heads off to Germany, Yuugi no longer has Yami to protect him in school, and what do you do with a problem like Maria? Whoops, sorry. I meant Ryou. (Atleast, I think this wil be included in the second chapter. My notebook is in my locker. Very useful, I know.)

You're invited to leave a review even if you send me feedback for the teaser! I'm sure theres something in here you want to tell me about.

Ta-ta!~

-_VenusOfHecate_


	2. The New Year

**A/N:**

Here we are at chapter two! I promised several people, including one who held me at gunpoint (yes, I'm talking about YOU, Teal Phoenix), that I'd get this out sooner rather than later. Too bad that didn't happen. We had midterms at school, so sue me. Ha. Anyway, I've decided to rework the puppyshipping (Kaiba/Jounouchi) back into this a little bit! I hope that's okay with you all!

**~Write in your review whether or not you think I should bring the puppyshipping back!!~**

**Disclaimer:**

I don't own the rights to Yu-Gi-Oh!. If I did, I would be rich! And really, would I be writing fanfiction?

* * *

**Thursday, Domino City Airport, Morning**

Yuugi, Ryou, and Malik stood together at the gate amidst the hustle and bustle of the crowd around them. They were locked together in a fierce group hug, no one daring to let go. Only when the airline employee admitting people onto the plane gave the final call for boarding passengers did Malik break away from them. He slung his carry-on bag over his shoulder, giving Yuugi and Ryou a sad smile. "I guess this is it then," he said quietly.

"You're going over there to study, Malik," Yuugi stated, attempting a small smile, "So give the German clubs a break once in a while."

Ryou and Malik chuckled weakly at Yuugi's weak joke. The white haired teen turned towards his blond friend, giving him a watery-eyed grin. "Who am I going to get to accompany my flute pieces now?"

"I'm sure you'll find someone, Ryou," Malik told him, voice wavering. "When I come home for Christmas break, I'm bringing lots of souvenirs back with me. Don't forget to write to me every now and then."

And, with a small wave, he disappeared into the tunnel leading onto the airplane. Ryou turned to look at his remaining friend. "Nothing's going to be the same anymore, is it?"

Yuugi nodded, biting his bottom lip. "Not until he comes back. It's just you and me now, Ryou."

"Just you and me," Ryou repeated, grabbing onto Yuugi's hand a squeezing it tightly.

* * *

**Monday, Domino High School, Homeroom, Morning**

A tall, busty, blonde woman stood at the front of the classroom, filling out the class attendance sheet while the announcements played over the loudspeaker. Her dark, violet eyes scanned the rows of students in front of her, noting the absentees. She laughed quietly to herself as she took in all of the unpleasant expressions of the students. The first day of a new school year always made everyone unhappy. With a worried frown, she realized that Yuugi was sitting all the way in the back of the room. Yuugi always made it a point to sit up front and keep her company. The small teen was her favorite student, and seeing this change in his behavior set off warning bells in her head. She stared at him, trying to catch his eye. His gaze was firmly fixed on his desk, never looking up and barely blinking.

'This can't be from the start of a new school year, Mai,' the teacher told herself, clicking her large, funky heels off of the tiled floor in a nervous motion . She strutted back to her desk and pulled out her make-up bag. Bringing it back to her podium in front of the class, she fished out her compact and lipstick. Opening the mirror, she studied her reflection for a moment before touching up her appearance quickly. 'Your star pupil is in trouble. Now, what are you going to do about it?'

The bell rang, and the students all but ran for the door. The room was emptied in seconds. Yuugi sluggishly got out of his seat and made his way towards the door. He was stopped by a pale hand on his shoulder, polished nails tapping against him impatiently. "And where do you think you're going, honey?" Mai asked testily. She whirled Yuugi around and shoved him into the rolling chair that was positioned next to her desk. Crouching down, the busty woman looked into his eyes with concern. "What's the matter?"

"Yami's not here anymore, Ms. Valentine," Yuugi informed her dejectedly, turning his head to the side in a vain attempt to hide the light blush on his cheeks.

"Oh, sweetie," Mai murmured, "I know how that can be. You'll just have to tough it out."

Yuugi sniffled softly, and Mai hugged him tightly. "I wish I could be as strong as you when it comes to this sort of thing, Ms. Valentine," Yuugi confessed a bit breathlessly, inhaling the strong scent of her perfume.

"You just come to me whenever you feel like you need to talk to me, alright, sweetie?" Mai asked him, putting her hands on his tiny shoulders and staring him down, almost as if daring him to refuse her help.

"Okay," Yuugi replied, laughing in spite of himself. "I'm going to be late if I don't get moving." The small teen wriggled out of Mai's hold and headed for the door, feigning happiness for his teacher's sake. "See you later, Ms. Valentine!"

* * *

**First Period, Mathematics Class**

Anzu Mazaki searched around in her oversized, designer purse, snatching up her lip gloss triumphantly when she found it. Using the back of her cell phone as a make-shift mirror, she applied a quick swipe of the glittery substance before smiling charmingly at her reflection. Ah, her senior year at Domino High. What a year it would be. "It's too bad Yami's not around," she commented to the girl in front of her, "Or this year would've been twice as fun."

The girl turned around, pushing her lavender-dyed hair out of her face. "Anzu sweetie, Yami is both gay and taken. When will you finally give up?"

"Miho, Miho, Miho…," Anzu chided, making a clicking noise with her tongue, "I have given up. That Yuugi is just too cute with our Yami! I just wish Yami would be around because he is oh so fun to mess with! That and I miss his adorable little displays of affection for the little freshman. Oops! I guess it's sophomore now."

"He'll always be your little freshman, won't he, girl?" Miho asked, combing through her purple locks with her fingers.

"Speaking of," Anzu began, swiveling her gaze to lock on the door to the classroom, "Look who just walked in!"

Yuugi entered the classroom carefully, looking around for a place to sit that wasn't up in the front. His arms ached slightly from carrying his books the long distance between his homeroom and his math class. 'I guess Yami had other uses, too," he thought to himself with bitter amusement.

"Yuugi!" Anzu called out, waving a perfectly manicured hand in the air to call his attention. "Come sit by us, Yuugi!"

The entire class' attention was now focused on Yuugi. Now that Yami, Bakura, and Marik had graduated, Anzu was officially the most popular student at Domino High. The fact that she had completely overlooked the other, more popular, students in the classroom and tried to get Yuugi's attention was, to say the least, confusing.

Uncomfortable with all the stares directed his way, Yuugi hurried to take the seat next to Anzu. She beamed at him as he sat down. "Hey, Yuugi! This looks like it's going to be a great year, huh? By the way, this is Miho Nosaka."

Miho smiled sweetly at the sophomore. "Hey, honey!"

"Er, hi," Yuugi greeted, unaccustomed to being called "honey" by anyone. "I didn't know you'd be in my math class, Anzu," he remarked conversationally.

"Yeah, well," Anzu stated simply, shrugging, "Math was never my thing. I wasn't even supposed to be taking a math my senior year, but that bastard Kaiba failed me last year! Same with Miho. God, it's such a pain!"

At that moment the late bell rang, and Kaiba walked in to the room, slamming the door behind him. The room was engulfed in utter silence as the stoic teacher picked up a piece of chalk and began writing on the board. "I'm not going to welcome you to my Advanced Mathematics 1 class because I highly doubt any of you want to be here in the slightest. I assume you all know that my name is Mr. Kaiba, and I will be addressed as such." He tossed the chalk back on the chalk tray after finishing the complicated equation he had written on the board. "Let's test what you remember from summer vacation, shall we?"

* * *

**Second Period, Language Arts **

Yawning widely, Ryou threw his books onto his desktop and slouched down into his seat, resting his head on top of his folded arms. He was fighting to stay awake, a usual situation for him lately. The teen considered checking in with the school nurse to see if it was anything serious, but he quickly decided against it when he tried to stand up again and found it took more effort than he was willing to put in to it.

Anzu came strutting into the room, waving goodbye to Miho and Yuugi as they parted ways in the hallway. She glanced around the room, searching for anyone she knew to sit with. The senior girl automatically spotted a familiar face. The white haired boy who always hung out with Yuugi was sitting in a corner by himself, looking like death itself. A curious frown settled onto her perfectly polished features as she approached him. Setting her books down on the desk next to him, she slid into the seat and gave him her brightest smile. "Hey!"

Ryou blinked blearily, his brain not fully processing what he was seeing. "Uhm. Hello," he replied tentatively, eyebrows raised.

"Come here often? Ahahaha! Oh, I'm just kidding, Ryou! I was really hoping one of my friends would be in this class, and here you are! Man, I'm lucky or what? Do you know who teaches this class? I think he's new. Think he'll give a lot of homework? If he does, we'll have a problem because there's no way I'm letting homework cut into my social life. Know what I mean?" she babbled, finally ending her monologue and fixing Ryou with a hopeful stare.

"Do I… know you?" Ryou asked dryly.

"You sound just like Bakura when you said that!" Anzu cried happily, laughing at the situation. Ryou have her a dismal look when she said that, and the peppy teen checked herself. "Sorry. Guess I shouldn't bring him up, what with the college and all. So, you mean to say that you don't know me, Ryou?"

"No, sorry," Ryou replied, glad that the girl had steered the conversation away from Bakura. He even lifted his head up to be polite and look interested.

"I'm one of Yuugi's best friends! Plus you went to one of my parties last year!" Anzu declared happily, fixing the white haired teen with a winning smile. Her perfectly white teeth shone prominently against her bright red lipstick.

"Oh. Forgive my rudeness, Anzu. I'm not having the best day today," he explained with a halfhearted chuckle, trailing off.

"Well, maybe I can brighten it up for you a little bit, Ryou," the senior girl said optimistically, pulling a big, pink hairbrush out of her giant purse. She moved behind Ryou, leaning on the desk behind him, and started running the object through his hair. "There's not much time before the torture known as grammar starts, but the back of your hair was just so sticky uppity and whatnot that it was driving me crazy!"

Ryou laughed quietly to himself. It was a bright, cheerful laugh, something rare to him nowadays. "More than usual?" he asked her.

* * *

**Sixth Period, Cafeteria**

Yuugi, Ryou, Anzu, Miho, Otogi, and Jounouchi held everyone's as they sat at the very same table that Yami, Bakura, and Marik had claimed as their own last year. Even though they had showed up late to lunch, the table was empty and waiting for them due to the fact that everyone else was too afraid to sit there.

After grabbing their lunch trays from the cafeteria line, the students all sat down at that famous table and immediately launched into conversation. Yuugi and Ryou picked at their food idly with their forks, talking excitedly about the new student teacher that was at their music lessons that day. Anzu and Miho, as soon as they were introduced to Otogi, started up on gossip with the fashion-savvy sophomore. The girls practically drooled on him, both extremely proud that they'd finally found a decent man amongst the hopeless cases of fashion disasters at their school.

However, Jounouchi kept his thoughts to himself, only chiming in to his friends' conversations when asked. His mind was on a certain math class he would have to attend later that day. The blond and Seto hadn't spoken since the end of the last school year.

* * *

**Seventh Period, Mathematics Class**

"That will be all for today, class," Kaiba said sternly, picking up the eraser on the chalk tray and erasing everything that was written on the board, "You may talk amongst yourselves, but be quiet about it."

The classroom erupted into quiet whispers and footsteps. The class of sophomores didn't try to conceal their hatred for the strict math teacher. They glared openly at his back as he erased the board indifferently, whispering about how they would transfer out if the class wasn't required.

Jounouchi sat in the very last row in the corner, carefully arranging his book, notebook, and pencil so he would look busy. The blond snuck glances at Kaiba's back every so often, reprimanding himself mentally whenever he did. He didn't know where they stood in their relationship, seeing as the two hadn't had contact all summer. Admiring his teacher's light tan briefly, Jou told himself they couldn't possibly be over after all they had done.

The bell rang, and the students hurried out of the classroom, eager to be rid of Kaiba. Jounouchi hung back, hoping Kaiba would approach him like he had done so often the previous year. A relieved sigh reached the blond's ears as he heard his lover collapse into his desk chair. Jou walked up to the fatigued man with a curious frown on his face. "Tired?"

"Very," Kaiba agreed, rubbing his temples, "Being hated isn't exactly the easiest thing to deal with in the world."

"You could try being nicer," Jou suggested dryly, moving to massage his lover's shoulders, pleasantly surprised when he wasn't shrugged off.

The teacher almost, dare it be said, moaned under Jounouchi's ministrations. "How would they ever learn to survive in society if I was soft like the other teachers?"

"I don't know," the blond replied, focusing on his hands. "So, Seto. How come you never called me this summer?"

"Well, for one thing, if anyone saw you at my house, us together on the streets, or otherwise, there would be unwanted gossip," Kaiba explained briefly. He leaned forward. "Go a little lower?" he asked in a commanding voice.

"If you insist, sir," Jounouchi teased, complying to Seto's wishes. The brunet made a low noise in his throat again, and Jou smiled cunningly. "I would like to go to your house sometime. Word on the street is that it's pretty massive."

"Family money."

"What's with the brief answers?"

"You know."

"Do I?"

"What would you say if I told you to be at my house this weekend around four o'clock and that you wouldn't be expected home until around noon the next day?" Kaiba asked, swiveling around in his chair to look Jou right in the eyes.

"I would have to say…" Jou trailed off, pretending to think about it, "I would say that you'd better not make me bring a sleeping bag!"

* * *

**Evening, Monday, Dresden, Saxony, Germany**

Malik stumbled off of the long tramway, lugging his giant suitcase behind him, as the thin crowd of Germans went about their business, talking in their strange, native language. 'Not many people,' Malik thought to himself. Being used to the hustle and bustle of the crowds in the tightly packed cities of Japan, the blond teen felt it was all too quiet in his new home. Though he was grateful. He hadn't known the organ tutor lived in Saxony instead of Berlin. So a couple of wrong train stops later, he had finally made it to where he was supposed to be. The sun was just setting, and Malik had a bad case of jet lag. The teen just wanted to curl up in his own bed and sleep for a week.

He emerged from the station and scanned the area around him. The buildings were very different from Japan, that was for sure. When Malik thought about Germany, he pictured quaint cottages and carriages drawn by horses. The buildings were modern enough, but still not like the Japanese buildings. The one thing that surprised him the most was the lack of cars. Spinning around so that he got a good look, he finally noticed an old man staring right at him. The man was dressed in a brown suit and had a cane. His light blue eyes were set off by his dark gray hair. Staring at Malik intently as if trying to match a face with a picture, the old man took a step closer.

"Uhm… Hallo?" Malik said, trying out the German he had been practicing on the airplane ride over.

"Du bist Malik?" the old man asked in a heavy German accent.

"…Ja?" Malik tried again, hoping he was right.

"I take it you do not speak much German," The man said in carefully pronounced English with a hearty laugh that surprised the Japanese teen, given the man's thin size.

"Nein," he replied with a laugh, dragging his suitcase over to get closer to the man he took to be his organ tutor, who was also laughing at Malik's joke.

"Ah, how rude of me. My name is Georg Heidrich. I trust you would rather save pleasantries and get right to the part where you get to come back to the Sächsisches Landesgymnasium für Musik and sleep?" Georg asked with a knowing smile at Malik's tired appearance.

"The what now?" Malik asked, switching to the familiar English he had been learning since grade school.

"The music school where I teach. My home is too small to accommodate you, so I arranged for you to board there," Georg explained, "It is the equivalent of, how you would say it, college dorms?"

Malik made a noise of acknowledgement, his posture slumping with fatigue.

Georg laughed. "It is a good thing that I did not come by bicycle."

* * *

**A/N:**

Sorry this one's not too long. I tried to beef it up a little, but it didn't do much good.

You would not -believe- how long it took me to figure the whole Malik/Germany thing out. Seriously. Ages.

I know what you're thinking. "What? No Yami, Bakura, and Marik?" Well, who asked you anyways? Oh. I did. I decided I would do a whole chapter of Hikaris, and then the next chapter has the Yamis. I didn't forget or anything! Ahahaha what are you talking about?! Sillies, why would I forget something like that?! WE'RE ALL FINE HERE!!

On a side note: I made my deadline by 10 days, babies! Know how your documents stay in your upload box for 60 days? Well, I use that as a deadline of sorts. The next chapter has to be up before the previous chapter reaches 0. Isn't that cute? No? Who asked you, anyways…


	3. The Colleges

A/N:

Okay, so I got this up so fast because I've been sick for like two weeks now with goodess knows what (my bloodwork hasn't come back in yet), and the internet on my laptop is spotty. So, with nothing else on the computer to amuse me, I turned to fanfiction! Lucky you! Also, my laptop has **MICROSOFT OFFICE WORD 7! **It's like word processing on steroids and I love it forever.

Major thank you to **Miss Lady Rin **for writing the basketball section of this chapter for me! I busted her gorgeous behind for goodness knows how long to get that typed and sent to me! I turned out fabulously, so you should feel free to thank her a little in your review. Also thanks to **Kaleigh Elric** for looking this over for me and adding in little words I missed and whatnot. I had to teach her about the characters first. YGO virgins are adorable.

**Disclaimer:**

Disclaim all… Stare at the heading "disclaimer" for a while. Isn't it a funny looking word?

* * *

**Monday, Morning, Japanese University of Business, Dormitories**

Yami switched off the engine of his bulky, black vehicle, unhooked his seatbelt, and stepped out of the car into the brisk, yet warm, late-autumn air. The campus really was beautiful, he thought to himself halfheartedly. Cherry blossoms lined the sides of the big sidewalk by the road the teen had just pulled off of. He had parked in a small parking lot next to a tall, otherwise unimpressive, brick building. Yami made a guess that it was around five floors high as he hit the lock button on his key fob and headed into the misleading dormitory.

The inside was an absolute stark contrast from the neat, professional appearance the outside gave it. The black, polished linoleum floors were set off brightly by the blindingly white walls. A few deep, royal purple sofas were arranged around a large, canary yellow table with a muted green vase of enormous, faux daisies sitting in the center. A tall woman with tousled, blonde hair and an ocean blue dress was sitting at the vibrant, red reception desk that was set against the wall opposite the entrance. Aside from the woman, Yami was the only one in the over-the-top lobby. He shouldered his duffel bag, pushed his designer sunglasses up onto his head, and strode towards her slowly. Confusion was written all over his face as he used his peripheral vision to take in the abstract paintings that lined the walls of the oddly colored room.

"Erm, hello?" he asked the lady tentatively, tapping his fingertips against the desktop.

The woman looked up, revealing matching blue glasses framing a set of honey brown eyes. Her features didn't look Japanese, but Yami couldn't pinpoint exactly what her ethnicity was. "Well, hello! I take it you're a new student?" she asked, pulling out a clipboard and a pen. In spite of her ambiguous heritage, the receptionist's Japanese was flawless.

"Er, yeah," Yami agreed, scratching his head a little. "My name's Atem Ahknemkhanen, but I think I might be in the wrong place," he explained awkwardly, still using his peripheral vision to take in all of the energetic colors contained within the room.

"Nope. Your name's right here on the list, honey," she told him cheerfully, checking his name off of her paper with a big, swooping motion. She then used her pen to point upwards. "Your room is on the tippy top floor, Atem! Atem, Atem," the woman repeated, exaggerating her pronunciation of his name, "That is such an extraordinary name!"

"Thanks," he replied with a half-smile, the tension in his shoulders loosening slightly. "Should I get my bags?"

"Nah, don't worry about it. I'll have the boys take your stuff up right away," the odd receptionist told him reassuringly. "If you'll just let me borrow your keys for a second?"

"Oh, sure," Yami complied, putting his keys on the desk.

"Great!" she exclaimed before turning her back to him and heading for a slab of sponge-painted peg board that was nailed to the wall behind her. Wooden pegs jutting out of the board held little key rings on them, though most of the pegs were empty. She seemed to be counting mentally as she scanned the rows, finally picking up what she deemed to be the right key from the rack. Turning back to Yami, she handed him the object. "That's for room 500. You'll be having a roommate, but he hasn't shown up yet," she explained briefly, "The staircase to the dorms is on your left!"

"Thanks," the bemused teen replied lightly, heading for the staircase on the side of the room that she had pointed him towards. He pushed open the door, only to realize that the entire stairwell, stairs and all, was made of glass. Looking around in shock, Yami took a second to feel the sunlight on his tanned skin before ascending the translucent, spiral staircase. They were surprisingly sturdy and hard under his feet. He climbed up and up until he reached the very top, for once feeling grateful for the morning runs Bakura and Marik had brought him along on. The landing that jutted out from the stairs held a sign hanging on the wall that read "the fifth floor". Pushing open the wooden door, Yami entered a wide hallway with only three doors on each side. He looked to his right and saw one had the number zero painted on it elegantly in white. Fitting the key gently into the lock, Yami opened up the room and stepped inside.

The inside of the dorm was a remarkable contrast from the rest of the building Yami had seen so far. Its walls were bare, off-white, and the floor was a simple, light hardwood. Two desks, both made of the same glossy wood as the floor, sat in opposite corners framing a plain window. The beds, two single bunk beds with white sheets, were pushed snugly against the left-hand wall, giving the room a wide floor space to the right.

Yami's face practically lit up. The room was like a giant, blank canvas, the obvious intent of the decorators. A nagging in the back of his thoughts kept at him, though. Here he was, a business major, but the dorm he was currently in was obviously for art majors. As he threw his duffel bag onto the bottom bunk and sat down next to it, putting his head in his hands, a grin spread across his face at the luck he was having today. Things just didn't get much more perfect than this. It made him nervous.

---Downstairs---

The lady at the desk picked up the phone with a quivering hand, checking the sticky-note on her desk to make sure she had the number right for the third time. A shiver ran down her spine as she listened to the ringing in the receiver.

Then the line picked up, and the voice of a stern woman came through. "Hello. Ahknemkhanen enterprises; Arata Ahknemkhanen speaking."

"Ms. Ahknemkhanen! Hello!" the lady replied cheerfully, twisting a strand of her hair nervously as she spoke, "This is Hina Hiroto from the boarding house your son, Atem, is staying at. I'm calling like you requested to tell you that he arrived here safely, ma'am."

"Ah, yes. How is the old place?" Arata replied warmly, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.

"Oh, it's wonderful, Mrs. Ahknemkhanen!" Hina reported gleefully, all too happy to relate her classes success story, "Just three years ago, a senior class completely remodeled and redecorated the house as a project!"

There was a dead silence. "I beg your pardon?" the woman demanded threateningly, an icy tone to her voice, "What do you mean? What is it like now?"

"W-Well," the desk lady stuttered bemusedly, complying with Arata's command instantly, "The seniors were art majors, and they redesigned the house in the style of Western art, utilizing the styles of many modern artists as their inspiration. It really is a fascinating work of art."

"Fascinating?!" Arata screeched over the phone. Hina held the receiver slightly away from her ear gingerly as the woman ranted. "That house was where my husband and I met! The best, most educated years of our lives, enriched by like-minded individuals, were spent there! And you're telling me it's been transformed into…into… modern art?!" she shrieked disgustedly, as if it was the most horrible thing imaginable. (**1**)

"Well, yes," Hina said stubbornly, nearly forgetting to whom she was speaking. Collecting her anger quickly against the aggravating woman, she forced herself to adopt a pleasant, remorseful tone, if not a bit sarcastic. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Truly I am. Would you like me to transfer your son into the main dormitories for the business majors?"

"Yes. And while you're at it, kindly tell the Dean that I am sorry to see the day where such a beautiful piece of the business world's culture is torn down by the march of modernization," she spat out, "Good day to you."

The line went dead, and Hina slammed the receiver down. She truly felt sorry for that Atem kid. His mother was a straight-up bitch.

* * *

**Boarding House, Room 500**

The door slammed open, and Yami's head snapped towards the door. There, standing in the doorway, was a tall man with shoulder length, blond hair, a stubbly beard, and dazzling green eyes. A pair of sunglasses were perched on top of his head, like Yami's, and he was dressed in loose-fitting, whitewash jeans and a gray t-shirt. His eyes immediately locked on Yami, and the teen cracked a goofy grin. "Hey!" he greeted in a heavy, American accent. Nevertheless, his Japanese was perfect.

"Er, hello," Yami replied, taken aback by the stranger's forwardness. He stood up, crossing the small distance to greet his roommate with a friendly handshake.

The American simply shook his blond head amusedly and pulled Yami in, giving him a strong hug. "My name's Paul! And who are you, roomie?"

"Atem, but you should call me Yami," the teen explained, quickly warming up to his new roommate's forward attitude. It reminded him of one of Yuugi's friends.

"Nice to meet you, Yami," Paul said happily, tossing his bag up onto the top bunk with a strong throw.

Yami took note of the blond's significant arm strength, even though his build was lanky. That trait of Paul's reminded him instantly of Bakura. "Likewise," the spiky haired teen replied, "So, what's your major? I'm guessing art."

"Of course! Isn't that yours?" Paul inquired, admiring the room with the same playful gleam in his eye as Yami had been.

"Nope. Business," Yami admitted halfheartedly, shrugging his shoulders.

Paul punched Yami playfully on the shoulder with a loud laugh. "Business. In a place like this? Shut up, man," he said disbelievingly, gesturing to the dorm.

"Yeah, well. This was my parent's old dorm, apparently. Guess they didn't know that it was remodeled," Yami shrugged again, "Neither did I. Honestly, I thought I was in the wrong place."

"No way. Bro, to me, you look like you're in exactly the right place," the art major stated, looking at Yami with a critical eye. The Japanese teen was unnerved with the way Paul was able to see that right off the bat. "So I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that you don't really mind being here."

"Nope. I wanted to be an art major in the first place. Trouble is, I'm the sole heir to Ahknemkhanen Enterprises," Yami explained casually as Paul's jaw literally dropped. The business major closed his new friend's mouth for him before continuing, "So it doesn't really matter what I want to do."

"I can see how being the heir to a multi-million dollar corporation would leave little time to be an artist. That sucks, man," Paul declared, nodding sagely. He winked at Yami. "Putting it lightly, of course."

"Of course," Yami agreed, nodding along with amusement at the small bit of humor Paul seemed to find in his situation.

At that moment, a knock on their door alerted the two men to the presence of a visitor. Paul opened up the door with an inviting smile, and Hina stepped in, looking grave. "Atem, may I speak to you for a minute?"

"Sure," Yami consented, crossing his arms out of habit. Somehow, in an unexplainable way, the teen just knew what was coming. His narrowed pupils slid to meet his roommate's wide, startled ones.

"That's my cue to go," Paul declared, sensing the thick tension in the room. He bolted for the door, leaving the two alone.

"I'm not quite sure how you'll take this because you really seemed to like this place," Hina began quietly, shifting her weight nervously. After dealing with the temper of Mrs. Ahknemkhanen, she was worried about the physical presence of the ill-tempered woman's son. "But Mrs. Ahknemkhanen has requested your transfer to the main dorm on campus," the receptionist finished in a rush, barely getting her words out before staring straight into Yami's eyes, hoping he wouldn't react violently.

Yami sucked in his breath, remaining silent. He could feel himself beginning to shake and focused on staying as calm as possible.

Hina sensed distress in the young man rather than hostility. At last she deemed his presence as safe and moved closer to him, reaching out a slender arm to rub his shoulder in a comforting, motherly gesture. "I'm so sorry."

"May I have my keys back?" Yami asked, his tone oddly calm, fixing the woman with a hollow gaze that made her want to shudder.

"S-Sure," she spluttered, quailing under his emotionless demeanor. Reaching into her pocket quickly, the blonde pulled out Yami's key ring and shoved it into his hands, retreating quickly.

Yami watched her go with a blank look, unable to register her confusing behavior over the rage and overwhelming sadness building up inside of him. Grabbing his duffel bag off of the bottom bunk and slinging it over his shoulder, the teen walked slowly out of the room and out of his first new friend's life. He kept his eyes on the floor as he descended the stairs and headed out through the lobby. The blonde lady called out a quiet "goodbye", but Yami didn't hear her.

* * *

**United States of America, Colorado, Rawlings University Gymnasium, Afternoon**

Bakura put his street clothes into his new gym locker, slamming the metal door shut and spinning the dial on his combination lock. He pulled Ryou's light blue hair tie off of his wrist, using it to put his unruly white locks in a secure ponytail. Smiling, he remembered when Ryou had made him get rid of his special "collection". The petite teen had missed Bakura's large collection of hair ties taken from Ryou's locker in gym, however. His boyfriend was probably still wondering where they went every day. Yes, sometimes it really did pay off to have a background in lock-picking and concealment.

Chuckling at his thoughts before letting out a heavy, lonely sigh, Bakura checked himself in the locker room mirror quickly, out of habit more than anything, before heading out to the indoor basketball court. He had bribed a janitor to unlock the building for him specially, so he had the gymnasium all to himself for the entire afternoon.

Heading over to what he assumed was the storage closet, Bakura opened the doors and found his assumption to be correct. Rows and rows of racks holding fully pumped up, bright orange basketballs lined the walls. Boxes of spare netting were shoved against the back wall, and other various basketball equipment were scattered neatly around the closet. Bakura walked in, staring around in amazement. After only a few seconds, he picked a basketball up off of the rack, dribbled it a few times, and took it out of the closet onto the court.

Walking briskly out onto the baseline of the court, Bakura started his practice session by doing some quick stretches and then starting right into the dribbling drills he knew by heart. Starting by bouncing the ball low with his right hand, he sprinted out to the foul line before abruptly stopping and backing up two steps, crossing the basketball over to his left hand. He repeated this at the half court line and the far foul line; A total of ten times altogether. It was just enough to start warming up his muscles and to get the sweat to start rolling off of his face.

Taking a short break, Bakura jogged to the bleachers where he had thrown his water bottle when he first came in. The teen quickly unscrewed the cap and took a long gulp to keep hydrated. Then, he got right back into his practice, running the length of the court before banking the ball off of the backboard into the net. After doing about twenty full court drills like this, he moved to shooting drills. He worked the blocks, shooting the basketball up, banking it off of the backboard, and then picking it out of the net as it went in. He alternated sides, and kept it up until he was satisfied with his record. (**2**)

Bakura moved out and began working the lane with shots in a quick solo game where he tried to make various different, difficult shots. After he made it around the lane about three times, he moved outside of the square around the basket to take longer shots until he was finally satisfied with his personal score there as well. Now he was all the way out to the three point line, taking shots from every possible spot. His fatigue finally started catching up to him, and the teen moved to the bleachers again to take another swig of his water, which had started to lose its refreshingly cold bite.

Picking up the ball and walking out onto to the court again, Bakura started up his free shooting to cool down a little after his intense practice. He was good at shooting more than any other play in the sport. He picked his favorite spots on the court and shot, sinking each one with precision and ease. He smirked, relished in the sound of the basketball swishing through the net. It was one of his time favorite sounds; Music to his ears, even.

A different sound, the sound of clapping, reached Bakura's ears. "Impressive. Very impressive."

The teen spun around defensively, basketball under one arm. A man in a crisp, white, dress shirt and black slacks was standing in the doorway to the gymnasium. He couldn't have been a day over thirty, and his thick, black hair was tousled, as if he had been caught in the wind. The man walked closer to him, stopping only when he was about a foot away and reaching his hand out. Bakura grasped it strongly, analyzing the man. Up close, he could have only been a little taller than Marik was, making Bakura at the least four inches shorter, and the Japanese teen wasn't exactly small to begin with. "Who are you, kid? Are you trying out for the team?" the man asked, dropping Bakura's hand.

"Who wants to know?" Bakura defended, dropping the basketball and crossing his arms over his chest. He shifted his weight onto one foot, trying to give himself a break from his intense workout.

"Ah, sorry. I'm Hank Stevens, the basketball coach," the man corrected himself, shaking his head with a rueful smile, "I always forget that part. It's just that when I saw you playing, I was blown away. Where'd you go to high school?" he asked interestedly.

"Domino High," Bakura informed him, trying hard to sound just a little more polite.

"Never heard of it," Hank said in an inquisitive tone, "Is it foreign?"

"Japan," the teen told him, waiting for the recognition to show on his new coach's face, "I'm Bakura Necrophades."

Hank's eyes widened slightly in realization, just as Bakura predicted they would. "Oh, yeah! They told me we'd be getting a Japanese student. Yeah, they told me you had some serious potential. Didn't really believe it until now."

Bakura, not really knowing what to say, kept staring neutrally at him. He ran a hand through his long, white hair, wishing he could either keep playing or go get a shower. Standing around was making him antsy. He could feel the sweat cooling on his body and the heat in his muscles.

"Well," Hank continued, oblivious to Bakura's discomfort, "Try-outs are scheduled every day next week. I'll be around all day, so you can just come in whenever, alright?"

"Sounds great," the teen replied, picking up the basketball and dribbling it a few times in an effort to relieve some of the strain that keeping still and having a polite conversation was putting on his body.

"I'll let you go now," the coach said with a nervous chuckle, "Sorry for keeping you. See you then!"

Bakura watched him walk off the court and out the double doors carefully, unsure of what to make of the lighthearted man. He thought for a moment before he turned and threw the basketball, making it swish gracefully through the net. Without going to get it, he headed back into the locker room, deciding that his new coach was too weak to train a team. His handshake didn't measure up.

* * *

**United States of America, Colorado, Atkins University, Night**

Marik yawned, stretching his arms as he came to yet another stoplight. There were so many of them on the enormous campus. He had been driving aimlessly around the Atkins University grounds for a good two hours trying to find the dormitories where he would be living. Grabbing the map off of the dashboard, the disgruntled blond triple checked where he was supposed to be going. It looked like he was closer than before, but then again, he had thought that an hour ago, too. The Japanese teen looked outside, trying to spot a sign or even a landmark that would tell him where he was. Sighing deeply, he pushed down the gas pedal of his new car, a cherry red sports utility vehicle, and turned the corner.

That's when he spotted someone standing under the lamplight. She was a delicate-looking girl with platinum, blonde hair and tanned skin. The little lady was wearing a lavender jacket and tight, dark wash jeans. Her appearance was so much like Malik's that Marik had to do a double-take, blink several times, and rub at his eyes vigorously before pulling over next to her. He rolled down the window and leaned across the passenger seat to talk to her. "Hey, do you know where the dorms are?" he asked in flawless English, casually giving her body a thorough examination.

She spun around with a started look, a hand flying to her chest. Her long hair fanned out as she turned to stare at Marik. Her wide, curious eyes were a startling, icy blue color. Parting her pale, glossed lips, the girl merely stood there for a few seconds before proceeding to babble almost incoherently at him in a high-pitched, airy voice. "T-The dorms? Well, I don't- I mean I do, but I've never… I suppose I have, but I don't- Oh, I can just tell you, can't I? I mean, do I have to show you there?" she asked, clasping her hands firmly behind her back. They had been flailing erratically while she was had been chattering.

Marik felt his temper rising quickly at the timid, flighty girl, and he realized that appearance was all she had in common with his Malik. "Listen, sister. I just need to find the Athletic Center Dorms. Can you tell me how to get there or not?"

"My name is Casey," she informed him quietly, "Would you please call me by my name?" As if suddenly realizing that she was doing something wrong, the girl began to babble loudly again. "You don't have to do anything I say, of course! Certainly n-not say my name. It's not l-like you need-"

"Would you please shut up?" Marik asked forcefully, silencing the girl immediately. "I just need to find my dorm, alright?"

An angry shout in the distance made Casey snap her head towards the source of the noise. She moaned hopelessly. "It's him. Oh, God. Please…"

Marik snapped his fingers impatiently. "Hey. Can we focus here?" He hoped to any deity that was listening that all American girls weren't like this one.

Casey looked at him, as if suddenly realizing something obvious. She pointed at him and spoke quickly. "You! I'll show you where your dorm is, okay? Let's go!" With a strength Marik didn't think the frail girl had in her, Casey yanked the passenger door of his car open, fell inside ungracefully, pulled the door shut with a slam, and screamed for him to drive.

Flooring the pedal instinctively, Marik's giant of a car lurched forward, speeding down the dark road. Through the rear-view mirror, the Japanese teen could barely see three, large men standing under the lamplight. They were all holding what looked like baseball bats, and one threw his cigarette onto the ground and stepped on it. Marik looked at his mysterious passenger out of the corner of his eye. "Why, pray tell, are angry men with bats after you?"

"They had what?!" Casey exclaimed, turning an alarming shade of gray.

"Just answer me," Marik ordered impatiently, quickly turning a corner.

"They're my boyfriend's friends. I stood him up on a date tonight. My boyfriend isn't a very good person," she answered obediently. A sudden rush of gratitude towards her rescuer made her remember what she had promised him. "Turn right here."

Marik complied, his brows knitting together as his mind began to catch up with the situation. "If you knew they would be after you, why were you standing on a street corner in the middle of the night?"

Casey's face reddened, and she turned to look out the passenger window out of embarrassment. "I'm trying to make enough money to buy myself out of this mess."

The connection was obvious, and Marik actually felt a little bit sorry for the girl for the first time that night. He wisely chose not to comment further on her situation, at one time he would have jumped at the chance, and they drove for the next ten minutes in near silence, the quiet only being broken when Casey told him where to turn. Soon enough, they reached a sleek, domed building with an enormous parking lot out in front. An illuminated sign at the entrance to the lot read "Athletic Center Dormitories". Marik sighed gratefully, pulling in and quickly finding a spot.

"Should I help you carry your bags?" Casey asked timidly, fiddling with her seatbelt buckle.

"No. I can get them," the Japanese teen replied bluntly, wanting to give Casey no reason to stick around longer. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. After searching around for the right bills, using the pictures of the people on them as an indicator of their worth, he pulled out a few and handed them to the girl. "Here. Thanks for the directions."

Casey's eyes widened in disbelief, and her jaw dropped a fraction. "A-Are you sure you meant to give me these ones?" she asked, thinking that he still wasn't used to American currency.

"They have Franklin on them, don't they?" he asked bluntly, "I guess I gave you a little more than you need." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Why don't you use it to buy a candy bar? I hear you Americans are really into them." (**3**)

* * *

**A/N:**

I'm very proud of the way this one turned out! I like it a whole lot better than the last chapter, which I'll redo at some point. I found out I started calling Yami "Atemu" instead of "Atem" for, like, this ENTIRE document, and I was late and pissed and ugh.

_Your reviews, constructive criticisms, praises, and suggestions are always loved and sought after!~_

**Footnotes (totally not in order):**

**1- **I was tempted to put "worse than peachshipping", but I'm not sure how my peachshipping lovers out there would take that.

**2- **Sadly, "working the blocks" does not mean what hookers do. Ahh, but it should…

**3-**Franklin is on the $100, just in case you didn't know. What? You don't walk around with a pocket full of Franklins like Marik and me? (yeah, okay...)


	4. The Turning Point

**A/N:**

I don't think I need to tell you that my username's changed for the FINAL TIME, but I will. It has. Done. Forever. Good.

**IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ ME****! **I'll keep it short. Mutou is the last name of Yuugi's mother. When she and Roku got married, they took her last name instead of his. I don't know if anyone realized my little screw up with last names there, but this is how I'm going to justify it. The Sugoroku and Roku name similarities is a coincidence. –nods-

Ahh here we are at chapter four! I have two bits of advice for you all today. One is that you should try very hard not to kill houseplants, as they supply you with precious oxygen. I had two houseplants in my room, but now I'm down to one. It's a good thing my remaining plant doesn't seem to mind only getting watered once a month. The second piece of advice is to watch out for rouge dodgeballs.

**Disclaimer: **Why do we even do these? If you're writing on fanfiction net, it is widely assumed that you are not getting paid for it.

* * *

**Friday, Morning, Domino High School, Gymnasium**

Ryou cringed as a rouge dodgeball came flying towards him from the court. His reflexes kicked in, and the teen yanked the thick novel he was reading up to protect his face as the ball slammed loudly against the bleaches a mere foot away from his head. Lowering the book hesitantly, Ryou met the apologetic eyes of one of his classmates before he headed back into the game. With a sigh, the sophomore shifted his gaze back to the page of his book, searching for where he had left off. He absolutely hated gym class. When Bakura had been around to persuade him to participate, Ryou had found out the hard way that games like dodgeball weren't all misery and loathing. Now, the game brought out the same contempt in the teen that it used to. Sports had lost their appeal when Bakura left.

Flicking the page idly, Ryou looked up again at the students in his class that were participating in the dodgeball game. Just watching them running around made the teen feel fatigued. It was quite easy for him to get out of physical education-related activities. All he had to do was look sick and frail, which, incidentally, required no pretending, and the teacher would let him sit quietly and read without so much as a doctor's note.

A sudden twinge in his throat made a look of panic flash across Ryou's face. He abruptly stood up and sprinted towards the locker room, holding his hand firmly over his mouth. Causing a scene now would only land him in the nurse's office for god knows how long, and Ryou would absolutely not let that happen. The new school nurse hated Ryou for seemingly no reason other than the fact that he was in her office every other day.

Shoving open the door of the locker room with his shoulder, Ryou rushed to the sinks, gripping the sides of the nearest one and finally releasing the torrent of coughs that he had been holding back. His eyelids clenched shut in pain, and he felt his knees buckling. Propping his elbows on the white porcelain, Ryou bent his head even farther over the sink, wondering desperately when it would end. Behind his eyelids, the frail teen was seeing spots of white light, and that only made him panic more.

His coughing fit subsided abruptly, and the sophomore reeled dizzily, letting himself fall to the floor. It was only when he clutched at the front of his shirt that he became aware of the fact that it was wet. Looking down at himself, Ryou gasped in horror. His white dress shirt was stained with flecks of blood. Putting his arms on the sink again, he pulled himself up and stared, transfixed, at the large, crimson splotches oozed slowly down the drain.

* * *

**Home Economics**

Anzu dashed into the Home Economics 2 room, flung her books and her purse onto an empty table, and hurried over to corner of the large room reserved for the cooking classes. She tossed an apologetic glance at Yuugi and Miho, who were already tying on their aprons and getting out their cooking supplies, and bustled over to the apron cabinet to get hers. Pulling out a pale pink apron, the girl tied it around her waist and headed back to her friends. "Hey, guys! What's on the menu today?"

Yuugi turned to her, his tiny arms full with a giant bag of flour, and raked his gaze up and down her figure, quirking one of his eyebrows questioningly. "Pound cake. Your apron is on inside out," he informed her with a chuckle, turning to Miho and handing her the flour.

Miho dropped the bag onto the countertop and turned to face Anzu, who was retying her apron hastily with a blush on her face. "Girl, were you hanging out by the guy's locker room again?"

"Er, would you be pissed if I was?" Anzu asked with a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly.

"Of course I'm pissed! You didn't bring me along!"

Yuugi turned the oven on, setting the preheat as he listened to the girls bicker playfully with each other. He surveyed all of the ingredients and tools on the countertop, picking up the measuring cup and moving to fill it from the sink.

Miho, as if just remembering something, turned away from Anzu, who was in the middle of a clever comeback, to face Yuugi. "Hey, Yuugi?"

"Yeah?" Yuugi asked absently, now measuring out flour into a dry measuring cup.

"Remember how you said you were looking for a part-time job?" she asked. Before waiting for a reply, the girl continued happily, bouncing on her heels as she spoke. "Well, my daddy owns this café, and I talked to him about hiring you as a chef because I remembered about you saying how you've really been into cooking lately. My daddy said you could come in for a job interview sometime!" she declared proudly, waiting eagerly for Yuugi's response. In less than a week, she and Yuugi had become fast friends, and the preppy girl was thrilled with her new friendship with the sophomore boy.

A grin spread across the small teen's face as he spun on his heel to look Miho in the eye. "Seriously? Wow, Miho, you're amazing! Thank you so much!"

"I know, right? And I'm a waitress at my daddy's café, so we could totally hang out together!" she informed him happily, taking some eggs out of the container by the sink, cracking them, and letting the yolk drip into the bowl.

"Hey!" Anzu interjected, "I want in on this, too!"

"Oh, you know that Daddy loves you, Zuzu," the purple haired girl told her, turning to Anzu with a bright smile, "Of course he'd give you a job, too!"

"Now she tells me," Anzu said with heavy sarcasm, "Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to ask my parents for cash?"

"I'm sorry, Zuzu. Can you come over today?" Miho asked cheerfully, busily stirring the cake batter in a big mixing bowl as Yuugi searched for the cake pan. "Yuugi, too?"

"I'll have to talk to my grandpa, but I'm sure he'll be fine with it," Yuugi called over his shoulder. He was busily prepping the cake pan with vegetable oil.

"I think I can make it. I have a dermatologist appointment after school, but I can come over right after that," the brunette thought out loud, taking the mixing bowl from Miho and stirring more vigorously than her friend had been.

"Great! I'll tell Daddy to make desserts for all of us!" the purple haired senior declared happily, clapping her hands together.

* * *

**Afternoon, Parking Lot**

Jounouchi adjusted the strap of his messenger bag, making it sit more comfortably on his broad shoulder. He stood leaning against the outside of the chain link fence surrounding the school's two parking lots. On his left was the teacher's lot. Now, one wouldn't say that teachers at Domino High made an outrageous amount of money, but their faculty parking lot was full of shiny, new cars. Right now, most of them were convertibles, seeing as how it was a very nice, warm, sunny day. On Jou's right was the student parking lot. While there were a few nice cars in the lot, the majority of them were dirty, scratched, practical cars. Jounouchi could pick out which cars belonged to people like Anzu Mazaki because they were similar to the cars in the teacher's lot. If Jou had a car, (the blond scoffed at this thought) it would be a real piece of scrap, even compared to the cars in the student lot.

Seto Kaiba exited the building where he worked after a long day of teaching brats how to add, slinging his dress coat over his shoulder and descending the stairs to the pathway that led to the parking lots. The little walkway cut through a lawn of lush, green grass and the occasional cluster of cute, multicolored wildflowers. The stoic teacher inhaled deeply, letting the seriousness fade from his features as he soaked in the beautiful weather and calming atmosphere. As he grew closer to the student parking area, he saw a familiar blond waiting for him in the space between the two lots. The student was leaned casually against the fence, and there was a faraway look in his honey golden eyes. Walking up to him, Kaiba set his briefcase down on the ground and, giving into one of his greatest temptations, brushed a stray strand of the blond's hair back into place with his hand, gaining his lover's attention. His eyes moved slowly to lock with his teacher's.

"Hey," was all Jou said, smiling in contentment.

Kaiba picked his briefcase back up off of the ground, shifted his jacket to the crook of his elbow, and hooked his index finger with Jounouchi's. He gently led the teen into the teacher's lot, quickly finding his own car. It was a large, navy blue convertible with the top folded down. Jounouchi moved around to the passenger's side and let himself in as Kaiba threw his belongings behind the driver's seat before doing the same.

As they drove away, it seemed that Jounouchi had finally reached his limit and could remain silent no longer. "Why the sudden change of heart about driving me home?" he asked curiously, fixing the brunet with a piercing stare, "What happened to ignoring me all the time in order to keep us a secret?"

Kaiba sighed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. This part didn't come easily. "Though it pains me to say this, Jounouchi, it seems that I went a little overboard with trying to keep our relationship a secret," he explained remorsefully, silently referring to how he made no effort to contact his student over the summer break, "A good friend of mine gave me some valuable advice and told me that I could ease up a little bit."

"So, in other words, I can come over to your house on the weekends?" the blond asked, not bothering to restrain the hope in his voice.

"I did invite you over tomorrow, didn't I?" the teacher replied with a question of his own, mentally making a note that he had some shopping to do for the little sleepover they were planning. If only Jounouchi could move in with him, Kaiba thought to himself. The blond's home life wasn't exactly ideal, what with his father's habits that kept Jou from having much of a social life due to his need to work multiple part-time jobs.

"Just checking, Seto. Just checking," Jou said in an easy, placating tone, fiddling with the collar of his dress shirt.

They stopped at a red light, and Jounouchi snuck his arm over to Kaiba's side of the car, laying his hand on top of his lover's. Before the unsuspecting blond could even blink, Kaiba grasped Jou's hand and pulled him closer, slowing when their heads were mere centimeters apart. Letting go of his boyfriend's hand, the brunet trailed his fingertips up Jou's back and through his hair, pushing their lips together carefully. As quickly as it had been initiated, the moment was over, and Kaiba positioned himself back behind the wheel, quirking an eyebrow at his stunned passenger. "Something wrong, Jounouchi?"

The blond shivered, snapping out of his trance. He pointed at the older man bemusedly, a smile gracing his lips. "You- with the… and the…with me- here…," he babbled, pausing and breaking off as he tried to understand what was going through his lover's mind. With an amused shake of his head, the student decided he would never know.

* * *

**Domino City Hospital, Afternoon**

Yuugi rushed through the glass, automatic sliding doors of the large hospital, his mind a blur of panicked thoughts that were all centered around one person. The teen had checked his phone after lunch, intending to text Ryou. His friend hadn't shown up to the band room for instrumental lessons, and he wasn't in the cafeteria for lunch either. Instead, he had received a message from Ryou, saying that he was at Domino Hospital and that Yuugi should come after school to see him.

He walked briskly through the clean, blindingly white lobby up to the check-in desk. The receptionist was a stern looking woman with pale skin and immaculate black hair that was pulled into a tight bun on the top of her head. Her slender fingers were flying away on a keyboard, and her eyes were riveted to the computer monitor in front of her.

"Excuse me," Yuugi said loudly, startling the woman out of her work-induced trance, "I'm here to visit my friend Ryou Bakura."

The woman blinked at him a few times, clicking her long fingernails on the keys absently as she thought. "He came in a few hours ago, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," the teen replied hurriedly, shifting his gaze back and forth restlessly.

"I believe he was only here for some tests, so you won't be able to visit him."

Yuugi's eyes widened before his gaze lowered to the floor. He shifted his weight, suddenly feeling extremely aware of how sterile the room smelled and how uncomfortable the atmosphere was.

The receptionist noticed his reaction, and her features softened in pity. "Is he a friend of yours?"

"Yeah," Yuugi replied softly, "I think, if it isn't a problem, that I'll just wait over there for him to come back out."

He turned and walked away from the desk, heading for a corner of the giant lobby where there were large, light blue armchairs arranged around an oak coffee table. Various colorful magazines were arranged in a fan pattern on the table, circling a stack of mug coasters. Yuugi set his backpack down by one of the armchairs, picked up one of the magazines, and settled into the plushy piece of furniture.

After a few minutes of people coming and going through the lobby, Yuugi's ears picked up the sound of a familiar voice. His head snapped towards the main desk. There, talking to the receptionist, was Sugoroku Mutou. "Grandpa?" Yuugi called questioningly, setting the magazine down and slowly picking himself up out of the chair. The old man didn't seem to hear him, so the sophomore began walking up to him.

"I'll page Doctor Amane right now. Honestly, that woman forgot that she had an appointment with a patient again?" the receptionist wondered irately.

"Oh, that's quite alright. I'm in no hurry," Sugoroku replied good-naturedly, sticking a hand in his coat pocket.

"How have you been, Mr. Mutou?" she asked curiously, eyes showing concern for the old man.

"Grandpa," Yuugi interrupted, hating the fact that he was eavesdropping.

Sugoroku jumped, whipping his head around to face his grandson. "Yuugi! What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for Ryou. What are you doing here?" the teen countered, putting a hand on his hip, "Grandpa, are you hiding things from me again?"

"It's really no cause for concern, Yuugi. Just a routine check-up," the old man explained with a nervous chuckle.

Yuugi put his other hand on his hip, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. "Grandpa, you know-"

"Yuugi!" someone called from behind him. The spiky haired boy turned his head in time to see Ryou run up to him. "You came!"

"Ryou!" Yuugi exclaimed in a relieved tone, embracing his friend, "I was worried sick about you! Are you alright?"

"I don't know yet. They said they'll have my test results in next week," the smaller teen replied in a calm voice, though his hands were visibly shaking.

The spiky haired teen noticed his friend's underlying distress and took hold of one of his trembling hands. "Do you want to come over to the game shop?" he suggested, intending to be a good friend and console the frail teen as well as pry every bit of detail about his situation from him.

"Would you mind if I slept over?" Ryou asked uncertainly, looking Yuugi straight in the eye.

Yuugi would have gasped aloud if he hadn't restrained himself. Ryou only asked to sleep over if something was seriously wrong in his world. With a shaky intake of breath, the teen turned his head towards his grandfather questioningly.

"You boys do whatever you want," Sugoroku declared, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. Pulling out a few bills, he handed them to Yuugi. "Stop by the store and get some snacks for your little sleepover."

"Thanks, grandpa," Yuugi said gratefully, tugging on Ryou's arm. "Let's go, Ryou."

He led his friend out the hospital doors, wishing he could pull his friend's mind away from the place just as easily.

* * *

**Mutou Household, Evening**

Sugoroku slipped quietly through the back door, being careful to make as little noise as possible. The old man heard conversation and sad music coming from the dark living room, and he shook his head amusedly. He would never understand why, but Yuugi and Ryou could spend hours in silence watching soap operas when they were together.

Flipping on the light switch, Sugoroku walked into the kitchen and set a small, brown, paper bag on the countertop. He reached into it and pulled out a tiny, orange bottle. Inside the bottle were white, circular pills. Opening the cabinet above his head, Sugoroku took out an empty, orange bottle and put the new one in its place. With a forlorn sigh, the old man stood in the doorway, looking in at the two boys. Their figures were illuminated by the glow coming from the television screen, for it was the only light in the room. They were curled up together on the large couch, covered by a blanket and sharing a box of crackers. Ryou's head had dropped to Yuugi's shoulder, and his eyes were fixed on the television screen. Yuugi held the box in one of his hands. The other was clasped tightly with Ryou's.

The old man sighed again, leaving the kitchen and heading for the staircase. With one last glance at the boys on the couch, he ascended the stairs heavily, the days efforts weighing him down with every step he took.

As soon as Yuugi heard his grandfather finish climbing the stairs, he nudged Ryou out of his soap opera-inducted trance. "Okay, he's gone. Finish your story."

Ryou blinked blearily, picking his head up off of Yuugi's shoulder. The darkness of the room, coupled with the comfortable position he was in, was making him drowsy. He thought for a minute, trying to figure out where he had left off at. "Well… Oh, yeah. After the doctors did all of the tests, one sat down with me and listed off what my symptoms could be from. He said that I could have lung cancer, Yuugi."

Yuugi gasped, grabbing his friend's other hand, and the box of crackers he had been holding tumbled, forgotten, to the floor. "Ryou!"

"It's only a slight chance," Ryou assured him, wriggling his hands out of his friend's iron grip, but he didn't sound very convinced himself. His eyes held immense worry. "But, oh, Yuugi, have you ever just had a feeling…," he trailed off, uncertain of how to put his notion into words.

"That it just can't be a simple problem that will go away in a few days or weeks," Yuugi finished, thinking of his father. His heart dropped as he remembered the conversation between the stern man and himself at the airport. "Yeah. Me, too."

"I don't know how to tell my parents, Yuugi. I don't know what to do, and I miss Bakura," he moaned softly, pulling at his knotted, white hair in frustration.

The spiky haired teen's features had gone almost zombie-like. "I understand completely, Ryou. My father told me before he left that he would be back to take me away, probably forever Oddly enough, I told Yami about it, but not my own grandpa. Funny, isn't it?" he asked himself with a chuckle that sounded borderline hysterical, "I would tell my boyfriend right away, but I haven't been able to tell my own family. Why is that, do you think? Do I love Yami more? Don't I care about my own grandfather?"

"Yuugi," Ryou said hesitantly, patting his friend's shoulder carefully. He hadn't seen Yuugi have a panic attack in years, but he was still able to recognize the signs. "Just take a deep breath for me, okay?"

"He's going to take me away, and I'll never see grandpa, you, Malik, Yami, or anyone ever again!" the teen carried on, glancing almost nervously around the room. His hands started to shake violently, but he still managed to pick up the cracker box and stuff a handful into his mouth.

"Yuugi!" Ryou said loudly, not wanting to outright yell in case Sugoroku would come back downstairs, "Calm down! Please!" He grabbed his friend's tiny shoulders, giving him a gentle shake.

Yuugi took a deep breath, but it came out sounding more like a gasp. He slouched down, sinking further into the plushy couch and away from the other teen's grasp, and took another, more normal-sounding, breath. Without turning his head, he shifted his gaze over to Ryou, saying nothing.

Ryou pressed the palm of his hand firmly to his friend's sweaty forehead, dragging his fingers through the thick, blond bangs and black hair slowly. He repeated this motion as Yuugi continued to concentrate on breathing. "You know, in spite of everything, I have a feeling that everything will turn out alright."

"… How can you be so sure?" Yuugi asked, his breathing now shallow but level.

"Well, we have each other, don't we?" Ryou asked, smiling slightly.

"We do," Yuugi agreed, matching Ryou's expression hesitantly.

* * *

**Afternoon, Music School Gates, Dresden**

Malik walked briskly through the gates of the music school dormitories where he was rooming at, followed closely by a tall, blond man that couldn't have been much older than Malik himself. He was wearing jeans and a plain white t-shirt, contrasting starkly with Malik's tight, black leather pants and red tank top. The Egyptian's gold bangles clinked together as he moved, and he was starting to think that maybe he should take the smooth, worn organ shoes he was carrying and use them to beat down his follower.

"Malik, come on!" the teen protested in English with a heavy German accent, grabbing onto the Egyptian's tanned hand to stop him, "Stay a little longer!"

Malik spun on his heel, outright glaring at him. "Alexander Trommler, you let go of me this instant!" he yelled, trying unsuccessfully to pull his hand out of his roommate's grasp. When he failed to wrench his arm free from the taller man's grasp a second time, he stomped his foot on the pavement, glaring harder. "I have to get to the cathedral! I'm already late!"

"But I don't have to be in class until noon!" Alex whined, tugging on his roommate's arm.

"So?" Malik asked exasperatedly, making a noise of annoyance at the German's antics. Honestly, for the short time Malik had known him, he had realized that the guy was incredibly self-centered.

"So you should stay and keep me company," he said in a definite tone, leaving no room for argument. He dropped Malik's hand, crossing his arms over his chest.

Malik sighed, pressing his fingertips to his forehead. After a few seconds, the teen straightened his posture, face lighting up with an idea. "If you promise to be good, you can come with me to the cathedral, and then we can go shopping before you have to go back to campus for classes," he suggested, hoping that would get the difficult teen off of his case. Without bothering to see if the German was following him, Malik turned and began walking down the sidewalk.

Alexander made a disgruntled noise, wrinkling his nose. "I was hoping that I'd get to go back to bed," he confessed, already falling into step with Malik.

"There'll be plenty of time for sleeping later tonight," the shorter teen replied flippantly, "I've got a lesson to go to and shopping to do, and I'm not going to let you weigh me down like you did all of this week."

Letting Malik get a few steps ahead of him, Alex stuck his hands casually in his pockets, whistling as he walked. His eyes were locked on Malik, and he was eternally grateful to whoever decided that pants should be made out of form-fitting leather.

* * *

**Night, Nosaka Café**

Miho sat alone in the booth of her father's café, clinking her spoon against an empty dish and staring at two uneaten ice cream sundaes that had melted into colorful puddles in their bowls. With a frustrated shake of her lavender ponytail, the girl let out a confused and unhappy moan. "Where are those two?!"

A middle aged, kind looking man with gray streaked, dark brown hair walked by Miho's booth, sweeping the floor as he went. "Sweetie, would you clean up those dishes?" he asked her politely, giving her an apologetic smile.

"Yes, Daddy…," Miho complied with a sigh, picking up her dish. She tossed a disgruntled look at the two that were filled with melted ice cream before making an angry noise in the back of her throat and stomping off to the kitchen. Those two were in for some trouble the next time she saw them.

* * *

**Evening, Somewhere in Britain…**

Roku shuffled through the stack of papers on his desk, briefly giving in to his paranoia and glancing around the spacious, sparsely furnished office that was his own before returning to shifting his papers. Finding the one sheet of paper that he was looking for, the stern businessman punched the numbers on his telephone, keeping his gaze locked on the paper as he listened to the ringing in the receiver.

"Law firm of Withers and Hansen; this is Catherine speaking," a female's voice came across the line in a clipped tone.

"May I speak to Attorney Withers? This is Roku Mutou," Roku stated, shifting impatiently in his large, leather chair.

"Ah, Mr. Mutou!" the lady acknowledged respectfully, "Right away, sir. Please wait a moment."

There was silence for a few seconds before the call was patched over, and this time a male's voice came through the line. "Roku, what can I do for you?" Withers asked cheerfully.

Roku pushed the speaker button on his phone and set the receiver down. "I'm just calling to report on the state of our case. My sources have told me that they've seen Sugoroku making regular visits to the hospital these days."

"Ah," the lawyer remarked, an odd tone to his voice. He sounded almost excited. "So this means that soon our case will soon be underway?"

"I don't know what you think this is going to be, Withers, but it won't exactly be a custody battle of epic proportions. There's no one to oppose me, as you will remember," Roku reminded him, unsure as to what the source of his long time friend's excitement was.

"Oh, Roku. You think this will be so routine, but when has anything involving your family been simple? You know very well how difficult it was to acquire even a fraction of your late wife's savings," Withers countered good naturedly.

The businessman leaned back in his chair, a smile crossing his face. "That certainly was a struggle, but, in the end, you always get the job done."

"Why certainly," Withers agreed, "And this will be no different. You will have your son along with his inheritance." There was silence for a moment, and the attorney seemed to be pondering something. "Mutou?"

"Yes, Withers?" Roku replied curiously, leaning in towards the phone.

"You have a successful business, a sizable estate, and enough power to control entire cities. Why on Earth would you want to take the savings and custody of some tiny, insignificant, teenage boy?" he inquired thoughtfully, his tone indicating clearly that he didn't see how those two statements fit together.

Roku Mutou let out a sadistic chuckle, leaning back into his chair again and folding his arms behind his head. "It's simple, really. I'm doing it because he is my son, and I want what is rightfully mine."

* * *

**A/N:**

Hohoho! There you have it! Many thanks to my yaoi slave driver Ceilo for the push to get this done! It's not edited the best, but I was tired. I hope you enjoyed anyway!

Reviews are appreciated, as always!

By the way, I made my deadline by 30 days!! This is coming to you a month ahead of schedule! What on Earth has come over me? Maybe I just love you all so very very much!


	5. The Dedication

**A/N:**

Welcome to my chapter five, lovelies! I'm, once again, thanking **Ceilo** for being a pain *cough* I mean pushing me to get this done. The Mahado and Mana thing (you'll see later) was her suggestion (read: she forced me to put it in). Thanks, girl! And of course thank you to all of my lovely reviewers that get me through the day!

Also, there are a few new oneshots up on my profile (two, I think. InuYasha and Fullmetal Alchemist), so if that's your cup of tea, then by all means!

**Disclaimer:**

I don't own. You don't sue.

* * *

**Friday, Morning, Japanese University of Business**

"That concludes today's lecture," the professor drawled in monotone, "Be certain to review your notes for tomorrow's exam."

Yami sighed quietly to himself, rubbing his temples tiredly as he felt the beginnings of a headache coming on. The exam had been weighing on his mind for the entire week, and he had studied for it most of the previous night uninterrupted. Since his mother had arranged for him to have a private dorm, there was no energetic, blond, American roommate to distract him from his work. 'I suppose Paul would've only gotten in my way,' the teen thought to himself glumly, not really seeing the positive. He picked up his books and headed towards the classroom door.

As he exited the building, his mouth set in a straight line of perfect indifference, Yami was startled out of his somber mood as he felt the sun caress his face. Shielding his eyes from the bright sun, the college freshman stopped in his tracks to feel the blissful warmth for a split second before continuing down the sidewalk. His dormitory building wasn't far from his morning class, so driving would have been pointless on such a nice day. His classmates walked by in tight groups all around him, each conversation blending with the busy atmosphere. A group of girls in short skirts and high pony tails walked by. Their conversation sounded cheery and excited, and an image of Anzu Mazaki and her cheer squad appeared in Yami's mind. A cluster of tall, muscled jocks passed by the Japanese teen. Their rough voices reminded him of Marik and his friends from the football team.

A feeling of utter loneliness washed over Yami, and before he knew what he was doing, he was dialing Yuugi's number on his cell phone.

--- In Domino City---

For the third time that day, Yuugi's forehead hit the hard desktop as he fought to stay awake in his least favorite and, in his opinion, the most boring class. Honestly, how was he expected to stay awake during a class called Environmental Studies, anyway?

His eyes widened a fraction as he felt a light vibration in the pocket of his school uniform jacket. The teen's tiny hand shot up for a bathroom pass, and a few seconds later he was out in the hallway, checking his caller ID. His stomach did a flip as he read the name flashing across the screen. "Yami," he breathed, flipping open his phone, "Hi, Yami!"

--- At the University---

"Hey, Yuugi," Yami replied with a tiny smile on his face. He had nearly forgotten what his little boyfriend's energetic voice did to his heart rate, "What's up?"

"Ugh, just Environmental Studies class," Yuugi told him unhappily. "And you?" he asked, heading into the bathroom so that he wouldn't get caught by a teacher in the middle of his conversation. Hell would freeze over before the sophomore let his conversation with his boyfriend get interrupted.

"I just got out of economics," Yami stated, crossing the street, "And I could not possibly miss you more if I tried."

A blush crept up to Yuugi's cheeks as he stared at himself in the mirror. "Y-Yami, I miss you, too! Are you going to come back for winter break? Tell me you're coming back for winter break."

'God, I love him,' both were thinking at that exact moment.

"Of course! And I'll bring you back a present," the teen promised, grinning up at the sky. It really was a gorgeous day.

"You're present enough, Yami," Yuugi confessed quietly, blushing even heavier. Had he really just said that?! "B-By the way! I love the cookbook you gave me! I think I'm going to go into culinary arts as a career! Isn't it funny how that worked out?!" he asked hurriedly with overzealous enthusiasm, hoping to distract his boyfriend from his sappy comment. There was silence over the line before Yami burst into laughter. His laugh was deep and warm, and it made Yuugi's heart beat faster. He put a hand delicately on his chest, counting the beats as he simply enjoyed the moment.

* * *

Yami walked through the doorway to his dorm room, his conversation with Yuugi all but forgotten as he reviewed his schedule, a look of intense concentration on his face. He had a lecture on financial management in half an hour, a class on human resources management that night, a paper on the pros and cons of various forms of advertisement, and the quiz from his economics class to study for. With a drained sigh, the teen flopped into his desk chair and hit the space bar on his laptop to wake it up.

The door burst open, and a girl with long, dark brown hair and tan skin came charging through, kicking it shut again. She dropped to the floor in the middle of the room with a giggle, panting from exhaustion. "Lost him," she mumbled to herself triumphantly. That's when she slowly turned her eyes on Yami and shrieked. "What are you doing here?!"

"Uhm… working?" Yami replied cautiously, only briefly shocked by her abrupt entrance. Really, after knowing Bakura and Marik for most of his life, very little surprised him.

"But this is my hiding spot!" the girl protested, standing up and glaring at him, "Why are you doing your work in my secret hiding spot?"

"Because I live here," teen countered, standing up out of his chair to return the girl's stare. "Who are you, anyway?" he asked sternly with underlying curiosity.

The intruder looked around, as if only noticing all of the furniture decorating the room. She took note of the black bedspread, the dark red curtains that matched the rug, the luggage in the corner, the full bookshelf, and the large painting of a tree before she looked back at Yami. "Oops," she remarked, blushing lightly, "I didn't know they rented out this room this year. I was sure the desk guy told me that it was empty."

"I'm a last-minute transfer," he stated simply, quickly running out of patience for the hyperactive girl, "Now, kindly tell me who the hell you are."

"Well, Mister Bossy, I'm Mana," the girl replied indignantly, "No need to be rude about it."

"I'm sorry. Who was the one who broke into my room?" Yami asked her incredulously, crossing his arms.

Mana hung her head. "I'm sorry, Mister Bossy," she apologized sincerely. One second she was looking remorseful, but a split second later she had an energetic smile on her face. "So, who are you?"

"Atem Ahknemkhanen," he replied, mentally bracing himself for her to recognize his last name.

"Ooooh," Mana hummed interestedly, putting a finger to her lip. She leaned in as if to get a better look at Yami's face. "I heard from Mahado that you'd be coming, but I didn't think I'd get to actually meet you!"

A knock at the door brought the two abruptly out of their strange conversation. "Excuse me," someone called through the door in a deep voice, "Is anyone in here?"

"Shoot," Mana whispered in panic. "Tell him I'm not here," the girl ordered, diving into Yami's closet and slamming the door shut behind her.

The door to the room opened, and a tall man stepped in. He blinked in surprise when he saw Yami but came to the right conclusion much quicker than Mana had. Smoothing his dark brown hair in a nervous gesture, he fixed his dark indigo eyes on Yami's crimson ones. "I'm very sorry, but have you seen a girl come by here? Brown hair, about your height, slight hyperactivity?" he asked politely, folding his hands behind his back as if waiting for something.

"Hey!" Mana objected, bursting out of the closet, "I am not short!"

"What?!" Yami screeched, clearly offended, and turned on her with his hands balled into fists.

"Ah, Mana, were you bothering this young man?" the tall figure asked sternly.

Mana looked at him with wide eyes before turning and trying to rush back into Yami's closet. The brunet man was quicker, though. He grabbed the back of her shirt and held her, struggling, by his side. "I'm very sorry for my student here. I hope she hasn't overly inconvenienced you," he apologized.

Yami nodded, holding out his hand. "Not at all. I'm Atem, by the way."

"Ah, an Egyptian name. I am Mahado. Pleased to meet you," the man said formally, grasping Yami's offered hand, "I hope I will see you around sometime. Perhaps at class?"

"What do you teach?" Yami asked in interest.

"Art of the Seventeenth Century," Mahado informed him, lowering his hand and placing it on his hip.

The teen's expression darkened slightly. "No, I don't think you will be seeing me in class then."

"Ah, pity," the teacher remarked disappointedly, "Well, we've taken up too much of your time. Come, Mana."

Mahado left, followed closely by a frustrated-looking, grumbling Mana. Yami watched them leave with a faraway look on his face

* * *

**Evening, Rawlings University Dormitories**

Bakura's pale hand turned the squeaky shower knobs off, replacing the sound of a constant spray of water with an occasional dripping noise as he stepped out of the stall and into the tiny, tiled bathroom. What the tiny room lacked in size, it made up for in extravagance. There was a mirror covering an entire wall with a marble sink below it. A pearly white toilet sat in the corner, and the shower stall was built in the opposite corner. Fluffy, white towels hung from the towel rack on the door.

The teen smirked at his reflection as he dried himself off, wrapping the towel around his waist. The perks of a rich family were sweet indeed. Walking out of the bathroom into his private dorm, the feel of the room changed dramatically. The walls were mahogany paneled, and the carpet was a rich, chocolate brown. A mahogany framed, glass top desk was pushed against the only window, which let in a stream of light from the setting sun. A double bed pushed into the corner took up a good bit of the room, its pure, white comforter contrasting dramatically with the much darker tone of the room. The earthy, relaxing tones made Bakura's shoulders relax immediately, and the Japanese student collapsed happily onto the bed with a sigh of contentment.

His mind wandered, as it often did, to Ryou. The boy's creamy, pale skin, silky, white hair, and gentle features were most always the center of Bakura's wayward thoughts. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat, desperately wanting his love with him. As nice as his surroundings were, nothing was sweeter than being with Ryou to the basketball star.

A melody began to play quietly, and Bakura's ears immediately recognized it as the ringtone he had set specially for when Ryou called him. He practically sprang up, snagging his phone off of the glass top desk and flipping it open. "Ryou. Hey," he greeted seductively, trying to mask his enthusiasm at receiving a mere phone call from the other teen.

"Bakura. Hi," Ryou's voice came through the phone. He sounded nervous. The younger's voice wavered as he spoke his boyfriend's name.

"What's wrong?" Bakura asked, eyes widening in curiosity before narrowing, "Is someone at school bothering you?"

"No!" Ryou protested loudly, knowing how his boyfriend was with extracting revenge from people for every possible reason he could find, "Nothing like that. It's just that… I kind of have something to tell you."

Bakura began coughing roughly, choking on air. Taking a measured, deep breath, he willed himself to remain calm. "Oh, do you now?" he asked, trying to sound as normal as possible.

There was a pause over the line, and the older teen could feel himself begin to sweat. He cursed mentally because, at this rate, he would have to take another shower before he went out to eat.

"Bakura, I had to go to the hospital for some tests, and," the teen paused again, seeming to be working up his nerve, "Well, I have cancer, Bakura."

Now it was Bakura's turn to be silent. He felt frozen in time, unable to process what he had heard correctly. All of a sudden, his heart beat felt far too loud and too slow. He was suddenly aware of how sweaty his palms were. Clutching the phone tighter, Bakura sat up completely straight on his bed and opened his mouth to speak. What was intended to be a sensible, calm, and collected sentence turned into a panicked, rushed blur of thoughts. "C-Cancer?! What do you mean?! What the talk are you fucking about? I mean, saying you are what huh?!"

Ryou's laughter came over the line. It was a light, sad laugh. "Oh, Bakura. Just give it a minute to soak in. I'll talk. The cancer's in my lungs, which makes sense because of my bad asthma and coughing fits. The doctor told me that right now it's treatable, and while it has the potential to turn bad, there's also a chance that it'll be mostly fine. If everything goes well, I'll be back to normal in a few months," he stopped for breath. His breathing sounded shallow to Bakura.

"Can your parents pay for treatment?" Bakura asked steadily, finally able to speak a complete sentence.

"I assume so, because they told me that they can. Of course, what they say and what is true are sometimes not the same," Ryou mused to himself.

"I love you," Bakura spoke solemnly.

"What?!" Ryou sputtered. The line crackled. "Bakura, what?!"

"I love you," the older teen confessed a second time. His tone was oddly serious. "Always remember it."

"Bakura," Ryou said in a consoling tone, adding a nervous chuckle in the hopes of defusing the situation a little, "Calm down. I'm not dying or anything."

"Oh, really? Remind me, darling, because I can't seem to remember something. Has there ever been a time when you've ever been at least decently healthy? Has your immune system ever once come through for you?" Bakura asked harshly, glaring out of the corner of his eye at his phone.

The sickly teen whimpered faintly, digesting his boyfriend's words quickly. "Oh, dear God…"

At the other's helpless, despairing acknowledgment of the gravity of his situation, Bakura belatedly reminded himself that Ryou was different; He was gentle. Therefore, the gruff teen had to be gentle when dealing with such a delicate situation involving such a delicate individual.

Before he could formulate a more appropriate response, Ryou cut him off. His voice sounded stronger, as if Bakura's rough analyzation of the situation had triggered something inside of him. "Well, that doesn't mean I'm not going to fight it. I love you, too, Bakura, and I'm going to live. I'm going to live for you."

The older teen inhaled sharply. Slowly, a smirk spread across his face. His lips tugged up to reveal his teeth as he began to chuckle. His chuckling soon turned into an all-out laugh, and the athlete couldn't help himself as he fell limply onto his bed again. "Damned right you are, kid! What makes you so tough all of a sudden?"

"What can I say?" Ryou asked cockily, and Bakura could almost picture the smirk and shrug that went along with that statement. "You've got some kind of influence on me."

* * *

**Late Night, Atkins University, Party**

The fraternity house was practically alive with the deafening way the music was pumping out of it, the stupefying way the multicolored lights were flashing and dancing, and the enormous mass of people gyrating to the beats coming from the speakers that shook them straight through to the core. Girls in miniskirts and tube tops danced with guys in muscle shirts and jeans. Red cups filled with frothy, amber liquid were passed around, shared, abandoned on tabletops, and accidentally knocked over everywhere. The atmosphere was buzzing with sensual activity. You could barely turn a corner without tripping over or knocking into a couple joined heatedly.

Marik wove his way through the crowd of college students, his own red cup held in a loose grip. This was his scene, and he was loving every second of it. The Egyptian was dressed in a fitted, black, button down shirt with the cuffs rolled up to his elbows over a pair of light wash jeans. From experience, the blond passed up his suede, designer boots in favor of his old, worn combats. They were easier to clean, in case someone couldn't hold down their booze. The college student's hair was in its usual striking spikes, with one minor addition. One of Malik's silly, silver hair clips was stuck discreetly into the side of his gravity-defying hair. The clip was digging uncomfortably into his skin as a reminder to keep his hands to himself. Marik was quite proud of himself for dreaming the idea up.

As the music blaring from the speakers changed to a low, pulsing beat, the teen's eyes lit up as he hit the makeshift dance floor in the living room. While the crowds in the other rooms were impressive, they were nothing compared to the mass of bodies moving to the thumping rhythms in this particular room. Easily joining them, Marik moved to the center of them, rolling his hips in time with the song. The girls closest to him blatantly checked him out, some even pushing others out of the way in order to dance next to him. The corners of the Egyptian's mouth tugged upwards in a smug smirk, watching their jealous moves vainly. He took a drink from his cup, entertained by their obsessive actions. A taller girl with flame red hair and sparkling, green eyes gave him a curious look as she maneuvered towards him. Once she was close enough, she bravely leaned towards him and whispered in his ear. Her voice was confident and airy. "Any chance for some upstairs action?" she asked seductively, motioning towards the ceiling to indicate the bedrooms on the second floor.

Marik was all of a sudden aware of the slight pain in the side of his head. He looked longingly at her curves before shaking his head. "Sorry. My better half would be pissed."

The redhead seemed to accept his answer, and she settled for dancing beside him. The other college girls looked at her with envy, yet they were unable to work up the courage to talk to the sexy stranger themselves. The beat changed once again to a faster paced, blaring rhythm, and Marik wound his way through the mass of students to take a break. Spotting a large, plushy looking couch across the room, the teen crossed the floor and threw himself down on it. He undid a few more buttons on his shirt to try and counter the heat in the room. A scowl graced his face as he remembered the last time he was at a party like this. With a longing look at the spot next to him on the sofa, Marik imagined Malik sitting there, making fun of people and teasing them with him.

It wasn't long before a tiny, blonde girl came bouncing over to him. Her hair was curled into tiny loops that were pinned back, and her skin, while unclear in the dim light, was clearly spray tanned. She fixed him with murky, brown eyes hopefully. "Hey, handsome," the girl greeted lustily, grinning, "Mind if I keep you company?"

"Only a little bit," Marik replied, looking her up and down. She would have been perfect for his game with Malik. Her platform shoes may have given her a few extra inches, but she was still about half his height. The Egyptian then let his eyes wander up to her chest. He sighed in annoyance. Honestly, it was like he knew more about fashion than she did. Lacy, push-up bras were never to be paired with skin-tight tank tops unless you were working the corner. With a concealed grin, Marik realized that he simply could not pass up this opportunity.

"Anything I can do about that?" she continued, undeterred by his blatant brush-off as she sat delicately on the couch next to him, leaning in and batting what were obviously fake eyelashes.

"Yes. You can learn how to dress properly and not like a slutty middle school student," Marik quipped, swirling the contents of his red cup as he looked at her with disappointment. The girl looked as if she was about to cry, so he added, "Oh, don't cry. You'll ruin your disgusting, thick make-up."

As she promptly stood up and walked off in a huff, Marik decided that Malik would have been very proud of him.

* * *

**A/N:**

A little on the short side, I know, but I hope it was fun to read nonetheless! As always, your comments are met with jumping jacks of happiness and brags to all of my friends!


	6. The Downfall

**A/N:**

This chapter was pretty much pumped out in three days (not counting the time I took to mass edit the whole thing) due to an anonymous review I received from a reader named "**Nixxxrky**" for SFLE. She wrote, "This is the second time I'm reading this story and it's still as amazing as the first time I read it. I'm going to re-read the sequel for this now and hope you update that soon :)" Granted, it wasn't very long, but it kind of touched my heart a little. It's the people like you that keep me going, Nix! This one's for you!

… Nobody hurt me for what is about to happen in this story…

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but this plot!

* * *

**Wednesday, Afternoon, Domino High School**

Yuugi dashed wildly through the crowded halls, haphazardly dodging students left and right in his frenzied escape. When he saw the entrance doors to the school, the teen nearly cheered for himself. He was going to make it! It was as he was thinking this that he smacked straight into someone mere feet away from the exit. Tumbling roughly to the floor, Yuugi yelled out in both pain and despair, shaking his head frantically to try and clear the spots dancing before his vision.

Ushio caught up at that moment, picking a struggling Yuugi back up by his collar. He smiled menacingly at the horrorstruck boy before making an attempt to drag the teen back with him. Unfortunately for Ushio, the person that Yuugi had smacked into wasn't too happy with the bully's intentions. "Ushio, put Yuugi down," the tall blond commanded menacingly, "Now."

"Jounouchi!" Yuugi cried out helplessly, struggling even harder to escape his captor.

The burly man snarled sadistically, giving the poor teen in his clutches a vicious shake. Jounouchi responded by bringing his fist back and punching Ushio square in the jaw, making him drop his captive in shock. Realizing that he wasn't in it for an even fight, Ushio sent one last glare Yuugi's way and an extra dirty look to Jounouchi before turning tail and skulking away.

Yuugi turned to his friend, giving him a grateful look. "You're a lifesaver, Jou."

"Don't mention it, Yuugi. Fucking Ushio," the blond cursed, balling his hands into tight fists, "What I wouldn't give to knock him out just once!" He looked for all the world like he wanted to pursue the bully, but Yuugi touched his shoulder lightly, making him snap his attention back to his friend.

"Calm down, Jou," Yuugi soothed his friend, "I'm okay, so nobody needs to knock out anybody."

"Want me to walk home with you?" the blond offered, adjusting the backpack on his shoulder.

"I'll be alright," Yuugi assured him, straightening his uniform jacket and his backpack before turning towards the doors. "Don't you usually get a ride home with Mr. Kaiba, anyways?" Jounouchi froze while Yuugi laughed good-naturedly. "Yeah, like your best friend wouldn't notice."

Without another word, Yuugi turned and headed for the doors, giving his friend a parting wave. He was anxious to get home to see his grandpa. Something didn't feel right today, and he needed to talk to the old man. Sugoroku always had wisdom to impart, and Yuugi really felt like he needed someone to talk to.

The journey to the game shop was uneventful, aside from Yuugi gently rubbing at what he knew would turn into a bruise on his shoulder from where he had hit the floor. He would have sighed with relief once he pushed open the door to the game shop, but something didn't feel quite right. Dropping his backpack just inside of the door, the sophomore ascended the stairs carefully. It was eerily quiet. Usually his grandpa was making some sort of noise. Was he asleep? The television could have been turned on at least. The silence unnerved Yuugi. Was his grandfather even home?

He stepped into the kitchen and let out a horrified scream, piercing the thick silence like a knife. Sugoroku was home, all right; He was lying there, face down on the kitchen floor. "Grandpa!" Yuugi shrieked, practically throwing himself onto the floor beside the old man. He frantically shook the man's side, tears spilling down his cheeks onto the cold tiles. "Wake up, Grandpa! Damn it, get up! Please!" The hysterical teen grabbed the man's wrist, checking for a pulse. "Please, Grandpa…," he pleaded hopelessly, sniffling pitifully.

His efforts were in vain. Sugoroku Mutou was dead.

* * *

**Tuesday, Evening, Music School, Germany**

The party scene in Germany wasn't much different, Malik decided as he gyrated his hips to the thumping rhythms coming from the speakers in the room. The only difference was that he couldn't understand a word anyone was saying. Even the music's lyrics made no sense to him. All he knew was that he liked it. A lot. True, their accents could be a little rough at times, but that didn't stop them all from sounding incredibly sexy to the Egyptian teen. He was especially loving all of the German guys that seemed to be pushing each other away solely for the purpose of dancing next to him. Many of them probably thought he was a woman, it was so dark in the room. No, this certainly wasn't a bad thing. Not at all.

The teen took another long drink from his red cup, enjoying the buzz the alcohol was giving him. It tasted so much better than the awful excuse for booze they had back in Japan; He really couldn't help himself from downing several of them. The fact that it could impair his normally spotty judgment didn't occur to Malik as he continued moving provocatively against the absolute strangers standing next to him. Of course, they all seemed quite eager to return the gesture.

Feeling a sudden, light tap on his shoulder, Malik turned his head to stare into the deepest blue eyes he had ever seen. Through his drunken haze, all that registered in Malik's mind was the fact that this particular stranger was exceptionally good-looking, if not a bit familiar. "Yes?" he asked slowly, dragging the word out. The response he got didn't make the least bit of sense to him, and the Egyptian wasn't sure if that was due to all the beer he had consumed or if the stranger was simply speaking German. "Haven't got a clue what you're saying," Malik explained briefly, his words slurring together almost incoherently. "We should make out," the teen suggested, eyeing his new companion's various assets with obvious approval.

Apparently, the foreign stranger needed no second urging. He grabbed hold of Malik's hand and, almost urgently, dragged him through the mass of dancing people and into a dark hallway before pulling him up a staircase. Malik's feet stumbled and he occasionally bumped into walls as he was swept quickly through the house. Quite frankly, the teen wasn't too sure how the blue eyed man knew where he was going. Not only were all the lights very dim, but to his alcohol-addled mind, the place was practically a maze. Only when they seemed to be on the top level of the building did his captor stop. That's when Malik realized they had reached a bedroom.

The taller teen pushed Malik down onto the bed, quickly removing the Egyptian's shirt. After making fast work of his own, he climbed on top of Malik and surged forward hungrily, claiming the smaller teen's lips in a rough, passionate kiss.

Things progressed rather fast from there. Layers of clothing went flying across the room as they desperately tore at each other, needing to feel the skin on skin contact they both craved desperately. The German attacked Malik's chest vehemently, pressing heated kisses all along his collarbone before moving his head lower. Malik cried out in pleasure, writhing in the stranger's arms wantonly. The strong arms that wrapped possessively around his chest reminded him of Marik, and the Egyptian moaned at the delicious image of his lover in his head.

A hand was on the waistband of his boxers, and those piercing blue eyes were looking into his own indigo ones questioningly, almost as if he was asking permission. Those eyes, if he squinted, looked a bit purple. Malik could have laughed. He urged the stranger on with a weak moan as a pale hand slipped down lower to grasp him. "M-Marik…," Malik whispered, voice low and raspy. He moaned again and threw his arms around the man's neck, arching his back provocatively to urge his illicit lover on.

If the stranger heard him at all that night, he didn't seem to care much about whose name Malik was screaming until dawn.

* * *

**Thursday, Afternoon, Mutou Household**

"Hey, Yami," Yuugi greeted into the phone, though the little enthusiasm he had managed to muster up sounded forced.

"What's wrong?" Yami asked immediately, voice full of concern.

Yuugi sighed heavily. "Saw right through me, huh?" the teen asked dryly. He didn't wait for a reply before continuing. "Grandpa's dead."

A string of curses was his only response for a few seconds. Then, "Are you alright?"

"No," Yuugi admitted, slumping into the couch tiredly. "He was my only family, Yami. What am I going to do without him? I have no family now. I can't live alone!"

"Go to my parents' house, Yuugi. I'll call them and tell them you're coming," the older teen told him comfortingly, "They aren't much company, but I'm sure they'll give you the key to my room. Oh, Yuugi…"

"Yami, I couldn't," Yuugi protested stubbornly, voice weak, "I don't want to impose on your parents."

"Believe me, love, you wouldn't be imposing. Hell, they didn't even notice me half the time," he assured his boyfriend bitterly. His tone suddenly softened, and his deep, concerned tone made Yuugi want to burst into tears. "Are you going to be alright by yourself?" 'Without me' went unspoken, but not unheard.

"I'm sure I'll live. Somehow."

"That was the least convincing statement I've ever heard. I'm coming down there." The only response the college student got was hysterical crying. "Hang in there, baby. I love you."

* * *

**Sunday, Morning, Domino City, Graveyard**

"Dear friends, we gather here today in sorrow to mourn the tragic passing of Sugoroku Mutou. He was an honest, carefree man who lived a simple life. Indeed, Sugoroku was a family man to the very core, and he loved children very much. His game shop was always a favorite place for the young ones to come to and feel welcome. The loss of such a man is greatly felt in the hearts of many," a priest rambled on, voice heavy with emotion. His hand was placed over his heart as he delivered the heartfelt eulogy.

Yuugi watched through squinted eyes as the bronze casket was lowered into the freshly turned earth. He stood on the freshly cut, green grass, polished shoes squeaking on the dewy blades as he shifted his weight. The sun shone brightly, but dark clouds could be seen on the horizon. Tugging at the sleeve of his dark suit uncomfortably, the petite teen looked around at the other mourners that had gathered. Though they all came in different groups, the mass of friends and family seemed to think and feel as one. Old and young ladies alike in dark colored dresses and wide-brimmed hats were dabbing at their heavily made up eyes with delicate looking, lacy handkerchiefs. Men either stood stoically, fighting back tears of their own, or had their hands on the ladies' shoulders, attempting to comfort them in some way. Yuugi was surprised at the number of people that came. His grandfather had more friends than he thought. The number of younger people surprised him, too.

"Sugoroku had many friends, young and old alike. He was a charming, courteous man who easily befriended many," the priest continued warmly, gesturing to the assembled crowd, "That much is obvious. He was also very humble. I'm sure our old friend would be touched by this sight."

Yuugi silently agreed, swiping the back of his hand across one of his eyes quickly. His grandpa really wouldn't take a single person's presence here for granted. The teen wondered morbidly if this many people would turn out for his funeral, too. Turning his attention back to the casket, he whimpered softly when he noticed they were filling the hole back in from the pile of dirt next to it.

Almost as if on cue, Anzu and Miho both came striding up to him at that moment. They had just exited Anzu's bright pink car and was making their way, with difficulty due to the size of their heels, over to their friend. When the girls reached him, the brunette's thin arm immediately snaked around his shoulders in a comforting, almost motherly, gesture. Her black, gossamer dress blew around her pale legs softly in the light breeze, and her dark hair was pulled up into a neat bun on the top of her head. Yuugi noted with a small smile that she was wearing a tiny, black hat with netting and a blood red rose on top of it, and that Miho's ensemble was exactly the same as her best friend's. The two girls looked like gothic dolls. Almost immediately after they reached him, Jounouchi, Honda, Otogi, and Ryou appeared together. They looked a little more downplayed in their simple, dark colored suits.

The group of friends stood together and watched as the dirt was filled back into the grave slowly. Yuugi had requested that they fill it in by hand. It had cost him a significant deal more, but the teen didn't care. He didn't want to speed up the burying of the only man he had ever called family.

People began to disperse gradually. All of them came up to Yuugi in groups or individually to express their sympathy for the orphaned teen. Yuugi accepted their small words of condolence with an empty smile. His eyes would continuously drift to his grandfather's grave, and he watched with a twisted sense of satisfaction as one of the workers stubbed his toe on a rock that was concealed in the pile. It lessened the pain to place blame for his grandfather's passing on someone, and these men were technically separating them forever between six feet of dirt.

Eventually, only Yuugi and his friends were left at the gravesite. Anzu squeezed Yuugi's shoulders in a weak hug. "Come on, Yuugi, we should get going. The brunch has probably already started, and people will want to see you there," she reasoned, kissing his forehead gently.

"Guess so," Yuugi agreed halfheartedly. The workers were halfway done with their laborious task. He really wanted to stay and watch them finish, but he knew Anzu was right. So he and Miho followed Anzu back to her car, waving goodbye to Jounouchi, Otogi, and Ryou as they did so.

* * *

**Restaurant, Late Morning**

Ryou's head snapped up from staring at his plate when he felt the presence of someone next to him. That person took the seat next to him and grabbed his hand under the table. "You're just in time, Yuugi," the teen greeted his friend in what he hoped was an optimistic tone.

"Yeah," Yuugi replied, voice laced with bitterness, "Wouldn't want to miss out on all the fun, right?"

Ryou didn't exactly know how to respond to that, so he settled for picking up his glass and swirling the water around in it.

Yuugi sighed in frustration. "I'm sorry, Ryou. Really, I am. I just," he paused, seeming to be struggling with himself, "I know I still have you, but first Yami left me, then Malik, and now Grandpa's gone. I've never exactly felt alone like this before."

"Wasn't Yami supposed to come today?" the white haired teen asked curiously. Mentally, he was reminding himself to tell Bakura to shake Yuugi's boyfriend up a bit for being a no-show.

"I asked him to come," Yuugi corrected, "I wouldn't blame him for not coming, though. I mean, he did seem really busy last time we talked on the phone. His parents are pressuring him to take way too many classes, and he has so much work to get done."

'That's no excuse.' "That's hardly an excuse," Ryou reproached, voicing his thoughts, "He loves you, right? So he should be here for you, right?"

"Ryou, he's in college!" the distraught teen yelled, flailing his arms and nearly knocking over his water glass, "Why would he take time off to come visit me when he has so much work to do?"

Ryou stared at him with wide eyes, immediately taking to swirling the liquid in his glass again. After a second of watching Yuugi inhale and exhale deeply, attempting to calm down, he decided to let his friend off the hook. "He'll come, Yuugi. Try not to worry about it. Yami's a good guy."

At that moment, waiters and waitresses came in through the kitchen doors carrying trays laden with plates of breakfast foods. Huge platters of eggs, bacon, French toast, muffins, pancakes, sausages and more were passed around the room, and everyone piled what they wanted onto their plates. Their conversation was mostly forgotten as Yuugi and Ryou remembered how hungry they were. Tucking eagerly into their breakfasts, the two teens looked at each other with matching smiles. Somehow, everything would work out in the end. It always did.

* * *

**Night, Graveyard**

Sobs wracked Yuugi's lithe body as he sat, curled up in a ball, in front of his grandfather's tombstone. The freshly turned earth under him was turned into a muddy mess due to the torrent of rain that had hit barely an hour ago. Yuugi was dry when he had arrived. He dragged out each mournful wail painfully, almost unable to bear being alone with his thoughts. Alone. He was alone. Utterly alone. Another scream, muffled by the rain, tore from him, and he turned his face skyward. The once bright, amethyst eyes that always sparkled with delight were hidden behind red, puffy, squinted eyelids.

"Why?" he asked quietly to the rainclouds, voice growing louder as he repeated the word. He didn't stop until he reached the top of his lungs and his words morphed into more sobs. Burying his head back between his knees, the lost teen circled his arms around his knees, clutching them as if for precious life.

His pain could have dragged on all night if Yami hadn't arrived.

The college student pulled up in his large, black car, and he opened an umbrella as he stepped out of the vehicle. Yami's heart nearly broke in two when he saw Yuugi curled up on the grave. Carefully making his way through the muddy grass to the vehicle, he began humming in his deep, baritone voice so he wouldn't startle his little lover, knowing how easily startled Yuugi could be. The tune was almost recognizable, but it was one Yami hummed often to the younger teen whenever they were together. He remembered trying to put words to it once, but he hadn't come up with a single one.

When he was finally right behind Yuugi, he crouched down, holding the gray umbrella over his love's head as well. Before he could blink, Yuugi had turned and was clinging to him like a lifeline, sobbing his name over and over again desperately. Yami pressed warm kisses to the younger's forehead slowly, rubbing a circle into his back with his free hand. "It's alright, love, it's all going to be alright," he murmured comfortingly into Yuugi's ear, pressing his warm cheek against his boyfriend's.

Yuugi leaned into the touch, gripping the collar of Yami's jacket with cold, trembling hands. "Y-Yami," he stuttered, teeth chattering, "I-I…"

"Shh," Yami cooed, scooping up his love in his arms. He adjusted himself so that he was still holding the umbrella above their heads before carrying the muddy teen back to his car. Using the hand that was weakly gripping the umbrella, he gave the door to the backseat a gentle tug, placing Yuugi inside once it was open. He shut the door and opened the driver's door, quickly getting inside, folding up his umbrella, and slamming the door shit again. Taking the blanket in the passenger seat, Yami shifted himself and draped it over Yuugi's shivering form, instructing his boyfriend to lie down. "Just relax, Yuugi. We're going home now, okay?"

"O-okay," Yuugi replied, grateful for the warmth of the blanket. He looked into Yami's eyes and felt himself warm from the inside as well. His dark, red eyes conveyed a love so pure that Yuugi couldn't help but lean forward and hesitantly press his lips to his boyfriend's gently.

Yes, he decided, he would be okay, after all.

* * *

**A/N:**

Anyway, I hope you liked it, even though it was pretty sad. And kind of short. I was pretty sick today (the day I posted it), but I don't think the final edits came out too bad.

Also, if anyone knows any supercool **beta readers **(or if -you- are one!), I've been seeking one out for a bit now. I've tried out a few before, but we never really worked well together. Atleast, not in my opinion anyway. So, your help would be greatly appreciated!


	7. The Truth part one

**A/N:**

I MISSED YOU! My inspiration for this little number is slowly trickling back into my brain, so here we are! Nothing says "Please Love Me Again" like a super deluxe installment of Sophomores, Freshmen, and a Love Story! Today, I bring you not one, two, or three sections of content, but six brand-spanking new additions to the storyline! You know how I do a chapter of Yuugi, Malik, and Ryou one month and then do Yami, Marik, and Bakura the next, right? Well, this time, I've written up all six! Just a little something from me to you.

On with it~

* * *

**Monday, Morning, Ahknemkhanen Estate, Yami's Room**

When Yuugi awoke, it was to the peaceful sight of the first few snowflakes of winter outside the window and the steady rhythm of Yami's heartbeat. The teen was curled up in his boyfriend's arms with his head tucked under the elder's chin. It was so blissfully warm in his embrace that Yuugi wanted to pretend he was still asleep and lay there forever. Unfortunately, Yami had felt him wiggle around as he was waking up, and so he blinked his eyes open tiredly.

"Good morning," he greeted, voice low and gravelly from sleep. He kissed the top of Yuugi's forehead, burying his face in the other's soft hair.

Yuugi's reply was a shiver at the loss of heat as the sheets shifted and a choked out "hi" followed by a lot of throat-clearing and coughing. He shuddered, pressing himself further into Yami's warm chest. "M'cold," he complained quietly.

"Well, you were out in the rain without a jacket yesterday," Yami reasoned without thinking. His expression morphed instantly into regret, "Sorry. Didn't mean to bring that up. Hang on."

Yuugi frowned as Yami crawled out from underneath the sheets and padded over to his closet. He returned moments later with a large, black sweatshirt with the words "Japanese University of Business" across the front in gold lettering.

"Here, this should keep you warm," Yami stated, sitting down on the edge of the bed and handing the sweatshirt to Yuugi.

"Thanks," Yuugi replied, pulling it over his head gratefully. It was large, sinfully warm, and it smelled like Yami. The teen inhaled deeply, letting a huge smile light up his face as he pulled his head and arms through.

"I don't know if anyone's home this late; stay here while I go check," he ordered, leaning down and capturing Yuugi's lips in a soft kiss.

"Can do," Yuugi replied sweetly, wondering how he could be so frozen while his boyfriend left the room in no more than a pair of loose fitting sweatpants.

He took the opportunity to scan the room, taking in its appearance. For as large as the Ahknemkhanen estate was, Yami's room was rather small. The bed he was sitting on was made of a dark wood with crisp, white sheets that matched both the carpet and the curtains hanging around the single, yet large, window. A writing desk was pushed into a corner of the room, and there was a mountain of papers and textbooks piled up next to a sleek laptop. The piece that caught Yuugi's eye, however, was the large canvas sitting on an easel next to the window. It was an elaborate painting of a big tree that had just started to turn colors for the autumn season. For some reason, the scene looked familiar to him, though he couldn't quite figure out why.

As he thought about this, Yami came back in and, noticing Yuugi's curious stare, sighed as he sunk down onto the bed, half closing his eyes. "That's a painting I did of the oak tree in the high school's courtyard. It was my favorite place to go during school with Bakura and Marik when we ditched class, but I think we all had our own reasons for going there. Mine was for the artistic inspiration it gave me," he explained, voice growing quieter as he finished.

"Oh. It's a very beautiful painting, Yami. Do you take art lessons?" Yuugi asked interestedly, lacing his fingers through the older teen's.

Yami raised his eyes to the ceiling, but Yuugi got the impression that it wasn't out of exasperation towards him. "If only I could. My schedule is crammed with all sorts of classes necessary for inheriting my parents' empire," he said unhappily "What I wouldn't give to do what I want for once."

Yuugi turned to face him, concern written all over his face. "Ohh, Yami," he cooed, "I knew you were having a rough time, but I think I understand now."

"Understand what?" Yami asked, raising his eyebrows. He pulled the little teen towards him, positioning him between his legs so that they were face to face.

"That you can't keep going on like this; all this forcing yourself to work so hard," Yuugi explained, gesturing to the desk, "There has to be something you can do."

"I don't want to be a disappointment," Yami insisted, leaning back to thump his head on the headboard, "I can't imagine what would happen if I didn't become a worthy heir."

"Yami, you're a genius already. Really, you are. Why can't you see that?" Yuugi asked quietly.

Standing up, Yami beckoned for Yuugi to do the same. "My parents are going to call the Domino High office, so you don't have to worry about them thinking you're skipping or anything," the teen said, brushing Yuugi's last comment aside as he led the teen out of the room, "They're letting you stay here while the courts figure out what to do with your living arrangements. If everything works out, you'll be able to stay here until you turn eighteen."

Yuugi stopped dead in his tracks at the foot of a staircase. "What? Your parents would do that for me?" he asked, voice rising an octave in surprise.

"Of course they would," Yami assured him, tugging on his hand to get him to keep moving.

"But why?" Yuugi persisted, absently tugging on the sleeve of the sweatshirt with his teeth as his boyfriend led him through the maze-like mansion, "From what you've told me, your parents aren't exactly… well, hospitable."

"Just because they didn't give a damn about my happiness growing up doesn't mean they're cruel," Yami reasoned, raking a hand through his messy hair. He kicked a door open with his foot, slamming it shut with his shoulder once they were through, "They'll be polite enough."

His statement didn't sound quite right to Yuugi, but he held his tongue, not willing to question his good fortune further. "Please don't misunderstand. I'm very grateful. I just don't want to be a burden."

Yami snorted, fixing Yuugi with a half-lidded stare that left the young teen breathless at its intensity. "Hardly. You know, Yuugi, you really aren't as cumbersome as you think you are."

Yuugi was about to ask what that word meant, but they had reached the kitchen then, and all he could do was stare with his lips parted. Dark, wooden cabinets lined the white walls over a long, granite countertop. Pushed against the farthest wall were three refrigerators, four freezers, and an enormous wine rack. Next to this display were five convection ovens, a traditional brick oven, and a line of electric appliances such as blenders and mixers. It was by far the largest kitchen Yuugi had ever seen, and he was instantly reminded of the cookbook Yami had given him before he had left for college.

"Yami," he breathed, staring wide-eyed at his surroundings, "This is…"

"We host a lot of dinner parties," Yami explained shortly, heading for a cabinet and pulling out a box of cereal, "This kind okay?"

Yuugi didn't reply; he couldn't hear his boyfriend's questions over his own spinning thoughts. He walked slowly around the room, pausing to inspect things and running his fingertips lightly over the gleaming surfaces of various high-tech appliances. Everything was brand-new and top-of-the line, and Yuugi simply couldn't help but be beside himself. If there were any doubts in his head of his new career choice, they were quickly stomped out.

Yami noticed that, in that moment, Yuugi's eyes sparkled with a kind of wonder that he had never seen before in his little boyfriend. It was the same look Marik got when he talked about football, and the look Bakura had when he played basketball. 'I guess I did something right by sending him that book,' he mused to himself. The way Yuugi floated around the room, inspecting things with unbridled curiously, made him want to hold onto the teen and never let go.

Abandoning his breakfast attempts, Yami crept up behind Yuugi as he was staring at his reflection in one of the polished refrigerator doors and spun him around by the shoulders, lifting him up onto the counter by his waist. Yuugi squeaked in surprise, gripping Yami's shoulders as he moved in to stand between his legs. Looking into the amethyst eyes he cherished so much, Yami ran his hands through Yuugi's tangled hair. "I don't want to go back, Yuugi," he confessed, pressing their foreheads together with a weary sigh, "Not this afternoon, not tomorrow, and not ever."

He felt tiny hands mimicking his action, and hesitant lips ghosting over his. "You have to talk to your parents. They shouldn't be pressuring you like this. College is supposed to be fun."

"They won't listen to me," he argued tiredly, pressing a chaste kiss of his own on his partner's lips.

Yuugi opened his eyes and put his hands on either side of Yami's face, forcing him to look into his eyes. "Have you tried?"

Yami didn't reply. He hadn't tried, he realized abruptly. "I guess I've always just assumed their answer," he confessed with a heavy sigh.

"Promise me you'll talk to them when they get home today?" Yuugi asked, rubbing the pad of his thumb in circles behind Yami's ear.

"I promise," Yami said solemnly, closing the distance between them.

Their light kisses and touches quickly turned into something much more raw and forceful as their teeth clashed and their actions became more desperate. Yami held Yuugi by the small of his back as he pressed their open mouths together, running his tongue along the roof of his lover's mouth and enjoying the muffled gasps of pleasure the little teen tried unsuccessfully to stifle. His other hand was firmly gripping the hair on the back of Yuugi's head, moving it in rhythm with his own.

Yuugi's mind was spinning as he melted into the elder's touches. He laid his palms on Yami's chest, as much pushing him away as he was pulling him closer. Legs clad in a pair of his boyfriend's too-large pajama pants wrapped around the other's waist, bringing their hips together and creating a delicious pressure that had him moaning and gasping.

Yami ran his hands down Yuugi's sides, relishing in the aroused shiver it elicited. He broke the kiss abruptly to stare into his partner's eyes, a strand of spit still connecting them. Without looking away, he ran his hands under the sweatshirt Yuugi was wearing, not deeming it necessary anymore as he tossed it carelessly to the ground. He then pressed forceful kisses to Yuugi's collar bone, making him whimper and squirm as his mouth moved lower to nip gently at his nipple.

This sent Yuugi over the edge. "Y-Yami... I-ohhh!" he cried, arching his back in pleasure and slipping his eyes shut, "You.. ohhh, God…"

Yami shivered, bringing his mouth back up to latch onto Yuugi's neck. "You have no idea what you do to me," he mumbled, hands skillfully tilting Yuugi's head in order for him to have more access to the tender skin. He bit down harshly, only feeling guilty for a second as his lover's hiss of pain turned into a heated moan as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to the soon-to-be bruised area.

"Do you love me, Yuugi?" he asked suddenly, closing his eyes as he pressed his cheek to Yuugi's.

Yuugi's eyes shot open. "Of course I do. Haven't I said it before?" he asked with a concerned look. "N-Now that you mention it…"

"Yeah," Yami replied, eyes meeting Yuugi's, "I only brought it up because I wanted to make sure you knew that I love you. So much."

"Y-Yami, I…"

"Always. Forever. Indefinitely."

* * *

**Monday, Morning, Domino Hospital**

"What do you mean he has to be an inpatient?" Mrs. Bakura shrieked, jumping up and clutching Ryou's shoulders protectively. Ryou merely coughed into his fist and shivered at the taste of blood mixed with saliva that he was unfortunately used to.

The doctor sighed, looking for all the world as if he was in her place himself. "I cannot begin tell you how sorry I am for having to deliver this kind of news, Mrs. Bakura, but in order for us to properly treat your son, it would be ideal for us to keep an eye on him here at the hospital," he explained, standing up and turning on the machine that displayed the x-rays. He slid a clear sheet in, and it revealed a picture of a chest cavity. "Ryou's cancer has been spreading at an alarming rate, and we have to start therapy immediately."

"I'll say it's alarming!" she shrieked.

"Like chemotherapy?" Ryou's father asked in a level tone.

"Chemotherapy and radiotherapy," the doctor said with a nod.

Ryou gulped, fighting to swallow the bile that had risen in his throat.

"I have some forms for you to sign right here, Mr. Bakura. Though I have to ask," he started hesitantly, lowering his voice, "Whether your insurance will pay for the full treatment."

"We… we should be able to get by, shouldn't we?" the nervous man asked, gripping his knees.

"I don't know. We'll do what we can, but will you be able to afford the rest of the costs if it isn't covered?" the doctor asked, switching the machine off and moving back to his desk to search for the papers.

"What kind of numbers are we talking? I-," he began before his wife cut him off.

"We'll pay whatever we have to. Just save my son," Mrs. Bakura pleaded, kissing Ryou's forehead delicately. She began combing her fingers through his hair, unsuccessfully trying to smooth down the unruly spikes.

Touched by her gesture, Ryou couldn't help himself as his eyes welled up with tears. He had to fight. For his mother, for his father, and for Bakura. The people he cared about were counting on him to live. "May I have a moment, please?" Ryou asked in a hoarse voice. All three adults' heads snapped towards him, and it was quiet for a moment before his father broke it with a mumbled "of course".

Stumbling through the door into the hallway, Ryou let his tears fall. He ran all the way down the corridor to the bathrooms, where he promptly shut himself in a stall. With a muffled whimper, he sat down on the closed lid and buried his face in his hands.

Why?

* * *

**Monday, Morning, Germany**

The first thing Malik was aware of was that he was naked. The second thing Malik was aware of was how very, very hung over he was. The first shafts of blinding, afternoon sunlight had just penetrated the half-drawn curtains in the cramped, musty room, and the sounds of many people wandering about could be heard downstairs.

Malik rolled over with a groan, trying to get away from the bright light, and his eyes shot open as his body collided with another. "What the-?" he mumbled, rubbing his head and blinking his eyes blearily. When he finally focused his eyes, he had to clap a hand over his mouth to stifle his horrified scream. "Alex," he breathed.

The blond next to him stirred, grumbling as he propped himself up on his elbows. "Nnn… zum Teufel ist hier los?"

"…What?" Malik asked, shaking his head, "Speak English, dumb ass."

"I asked what the fuck is going on," Alex replied snappishly, running a hand through his tangled locks, "I'm hung over, and you are interrupting my sleep."

"What the fuck did we do last night, Alex?" Malik shrieked, pulling the covers up around him as a dark flush spread across his cheeks.

"What do you think? My dick hurts from fucking you so hard," he explained crudely, reaching out to grab the back of Malik's head and bring him into a rough kiss. "Ready for round two?"

Suddenly, a voice was heard calling through the door. "Jeder muss hier raus in zehn Minuten!"

"I hate this god damn country so much!" Malik screeched as he pushed Alex off of him and pounded his fists into the mattress, "What did that mean?"

"We have, ah, ten minutes to leave. Is there a problem, kitten?" he purred, nuzzling his nose into Malik's neck.

Marik leapt backwards, nearly falling off of the bed. "Don't touch me! I have a boyfriend, for God's sake!"

"Ah, is his name Marik?" Alex asked with a raise of his eyebrows, seemingly unfazed by the Egyptian's declaration.

"How do you know that?" Malik asked suspiciously, tearing one of the sheets off of the bed and using it as a make-shift toga as he searched for his clothes.

Alex moved his body into a lounging position, reaching up to lazily pluck his button-down shirt from the headboard it had been thrown over. "That was the name you were screaming while we had sex, Malik."

Malik zipped up his jeans and hung his head, letting his platinum bangs fall over his eyes. "I have to tell him about this." The guilt washed over him like a waterfall. Marik had changed his love and leave ways for him and only him, and this was how he was repaid? He returned the devotion of the only man he ever truly loved by getting drunk and sleeping with someone else at a party. 'What kind of person am I? What kind of cheap slut would do this?' he thought to himself, wanting to curl up and cry like the pathetic excuse for a lover he was.

"No, you don't."

This tipped him over the edge. He turned on Alex with a fury in his eyes. "Would you just shut your damn mouth already? I happen to be in love with my boyfriend, and you had to go and take advantage of me while I was drunk! This is all your fault!"

"For your information, you were the one who suggested this last night on the dance floor!" Alex countered as he slipped his boxers on, finally abandoning the bed in the search for his clothes.

His rage dissipated just as quickly as it came, leaving him feeling completely hollow. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

* * *

**Late Afternoon, Ahknemkhanen Estate**

It was a scene that felt all too familiar. Yami was once again loading his bags into his car while Yuugi stood on the curb between Mr. and Mrs. Ahknemkhanen. He watched his boyfriend pack with a mixed feeling of nostalgia and sadness. The bridge of his nose was tingling, a sure sign that he would start crying soon. He pressed his tear ducts with his fingertips, clearing them of the tears he didn't want to show.

Yuugi felt a sudden pressure on his shoulder, and his head snapped up to meet the eyes of Mr. Ahknemkhanen. He looked down at the teen with a sympathetic expression on his face. That gesture alone put Yuugi at ease, and he felt himself calming down as he held Yami's father's gaze.

"That's the last of it. I should get going before the traffic gets too heavy," Yami thought aloud, spinning his keys around his index finger, "We're all clear on the plan, right?"

"Mr. Mutou here will stay with us as a guest until the paperwork for his adoption goes through the system," Mr. Ahknemkhanen confirmed with a nod, giving Yuugi's shoulder a gentle squeeze, "We will keep the money his grandfather left him in an account for him until he turns eighteen, when he will be legally an adult and no longer has a need to be under our care."

"Er, thanks for the report, Dad," Yami replied, gaze flicking to Yuugi's momentarily. The smaller teen thought he heard his boyfriend mouth the words "Get used to it", but he couldn't be sure.

Not one to be outdone, Mrs. Ahknemkhanen placed her bony hand on Yuugi's other shoulder and parted her cherry red lips. "You have absolutely nothing to worry about, dear. I'm sure he'll be perfectly happy here."

"Thank you all very much. Really," Yuugi piped up, looking up first at Mrs. Ahknemkhanen and then to her husband with wide eyes. "I really don't know what to say… This is just so-," he was startled out of his sentence as a single tear slid down his cheek. "Oh! I, uh, I'm not crying because I'm sad, I-," he cut off again as more tears welled up in his eyes. He swiped the sleeve of the sweatshirt Yami had have him earlier over his eyes, but more tears came. "I'm sorry. I just w-wanted to thank you…"

This time he was silenced by Yami. The elder pulled him into a strong embrace, murmuring comforting words into the top of his head. Yuugi relaxed, letting Yami support his weight as he sniffled quietly. "This means more to me than you know," he whispered, hoping that they would hear him in spite of the fact that his face was buried in Yami's jacket.

"You have nothing to fear whilst in our care, Yuugi," Mr. Ahknemkhanen stated, a soft tone to his voice.

"Nothing," Mrs. Ahknemkhanen repeated, her usual sharp tone losing its edge.

* * *

**America, Atkins University, Tuesday, Morning**

"I have to be at class in, like, ten minutes!"

"Fuck! Where's my phone?"

"Come on, baby. Come back to bed…"

"Damn, all the beer's gone."

Voices swirled around him like choppy waves on the ocean, and all Marik wanted to do was stop the splitting headache he had from cracking his skull open. He sluggishly brought a hand up to rake through his sweaty hair, momentarily unsurprised to find himself naked and laying under someone in a bed. Then his senses came crashing down on him, and he sprung up as if he had been electrified. "Christ!" he yelled, snatching his black, silk boxers off of the floor and hastily pulling them on.

The person in the bed began to stir, and Marik knew better than to stick around. He made quick work of finding his clothes and tugging them on before he was out the door in a flash, pushing through the blinding pain of the bright, morning sun in his eyes.

Once he was safely in his car, the gravity of the situation hit him with such force that he nearly floored his car into a telephone poll. "Malik," he breathed as the color drained from his face, "Oh, hell. Oh, fuck. Ohhh, fucking hell."

His classes didn't start for another three days. He was booking a flight tonight.

* * *

**Rawlings University, Tuesday, Afternoon**

"Come on, Necrophades! Move it!" the coach yelled from the middle of the court as he watched the players do their warm-up laps around the court.

"Piss off!" Bakura yelled back, but he picked up speed nonetheless. He really was having second thoughts about this coach. His first impression hadn't been positive, but the fresh-faced, clean-cut guy was turning out to be a real hard ass. It was the perfect attitude for being a coach in Bakura's eyes.

Just as they were finishing their last lap, Ryou's ringtone cut through the sound of the players' sneakers squeaking, making Bakura jump. He looked to the coach, who glared him down.

"No cell phones during practice, Bakura," he insisted firmly, raising an eyebrow as if in challenge.

"Actually, I'm afraid I have to insist," Bakura retorted, jogging over to the bleachers and rifling through his gym bag before he pulled out his phone.

"Thin ice, Necrophades," he heard the coach warn, "You have two minutes."

"Hey, Ryou," he greeted, trying not to breathe too heavily into the phone.

He was answered with sobs. "B-Bakura," Ryou moaned weakly, "Ohh, Bakura."

"Ryou?" He sent a dismissing glance towards the still-bitching coach before walking over to the exit and stepping out into the hallway, "What's wrong?"

Ryou hiccupped, and Bakura felt a tug at his heart. "I-it's my cancer. I h-have to be an inpatient!" he choked out before bursting into sobs, "This is the f-first free moment I've h-had to call you. I'm calling from my r-room!"

"Calm down, love," Bakura murmured into the phone as he felt his heart drop. An inpatient? How severe was this cancer? "It'll be alright. You have me, remember? Nothing bad can happen to you as long as I'm with you, so calm the fuck down."

He heard a few deep breaths and a few sniffles before Ryou's hoarse voice came through the line again with a short "okay".

"What kind of treatment are you getting?" he asked, concern dripping from his tone.

"Um, chemotherapy, I think. And surgery, probably," Ryou explained vaguely, sounding unsure.

"And your parents can pay for it?" Bakura asked, though he knew the answer already.

Ryou paused as if thinking. He sniffled quietly, and Bakura thought he heard him blow his nose before he replied. "They say they can, but I doubt it."

"If they can't, I will," Bakura stated determinedly, "I'll have my parents call the hospital. You just say the word."

"O-Oh! That's not necessary, Bakura! I mean, it's really…," he trailed off, as if unsure of what to say, "I hate feeling like such a burden, Bakura."

His voice was so quiet as he said the last bit that Bakura wasn't sure he heard correctly. "Ryou, never say you're a burden ever again. This is about your life, and if anything ever happened to you, I wouldn't be able to live," he confessed suddenly, unsure of whether he should keep going on that train of thought. He quickly realized that he had never meant anything more in his life, so he finished the thought with confidence. "Damn it, Ryou, I love you so much it hurts. If you died, I would die. That's truth."

The line was deadly silent for a few seconds, and Bakura could hear a heart monitor in the background. Then, "I love you, too, Bakura."

* * *

**Somewhere Over the Indian Ocean**

"So, everything is complete?"

"Almost, sir."

"Excellent. I don't want any mishaps, you understand?"

"Of course not, sir. Filet mignon?"

"That sounds wonderful. Order some red wine, as well."

* * *

**A/N:**

… And we end with a little mystery/suspense!

I always appreciate reviews, but I think now more than ever I will. I've been having quite the rough time lately relationship-wise. Not the best mood for romance fanfiction writing, I must confess. Love you long time, guys!

-Venus


	8. The Truth part two

**A/N:**

I'm going to stop apologizing for "late chapters" because ALL of my chapters are late. We can now assume that this is my normal pace. In my defense, real life is a bitchface.

Before I let you go, I just wanted to announce that I will only be replying to certain reviews now! It's not that I don't appreciate each and every one of you; I do! It's just that, with my current workload the way it is, it's not a practical use of time for me to meticulously write out how much I appreciate you all to a review like "awww cute!" or "good chap". I hope you all aren't terribly offended, but that's the way this is gonna go.

* * *

**~~EARLY DECEMBER~~**

* * *

**Kame Game Shop, Morning**

As he perched atop the rickety, wooden ladder his grandfather always kept in the shop, Yuugi suddenly realized that this may have not been the best idea. A few days ago, he had received a call from an employee of Kaiba Corporation, a company that specialized in games. They had offered a large sum of money for the game shop, and, though Yuugi hadn't wanted to sell his grandfather's old store, he did need the money desperately. It wasn't that the Ahknemkhanens weren't providing him with everything he needed. No, they were being excellent guardians. The problem was that they weren't his guardians yet, and Yuugi was certain that some kind of foster care service was going to come and collect him any day. For all their promising, Yami's parents found themselves swamped with work, and Yuugi's case was far from their minds.

With a sharp twinge of guilt, Yuugi admitted to himself that the last thing his grandfather would have wanted him to do was sell the store. The game shop had been Sugoroku's pride and joy for most of his later life. The old shop had seen many happy years, and Kaiba Corp. was most likely going to remodel it into a hi-tech arcade of some sort. Not that there was anything wrong with arcades, mind you. It was just that board games, playing cards, puzzles, and the like had been the shop's specialty due to Sugoroku's attachment to older games. They hadn't ever once sold a video game. It was with a heavy heart that Yuugi had signed over the place, but it simply wasn't practical for a teenage boy to run a shop on his own as well as do well in school.

So, what was he doing on the ladder? Trying to detach the bright, silver bell from the top of the door of the game shop. He wanted at least a small piece of the old place to keep with him even after it didn't belong to him anymore. Just as it was almost loose enough to pull off, the door swung open with startling force, and Yuugi crashed to the floor with a panicked scream along with his ladder. The teen moaned in pain as the back of his head hit the floor, and light exploded in front of his eyes. Strong hands grabbed him and pulled him up, and he whimpered pitifully as he tried to balance.

"What did you think you were doing up there?" a gruff voice demanded.

Yuugi blinked his eyes rapidly and rubbed the back of his head, trying to get his eyes to focus on the man. He gasped in horror when he finally saw who it was. "F-Father!" Oh, gods, no.

Roku rolled his eyes. "What? You weren't expecting me? Come now, Yuugi. Sugoroku is dead, obviously making me your new primary caregiver as your only living relative."

"W-What?" Yuugi stammered, unable to come to grips with this new wrench in his plan, "But I'm staying with the Ahknemkhanens until the papers go through."

"What papers?" Roku demanded, glaring daggers at his son.

"Custody papers," Yuugi stated numbly, avoiding his father's icy stare.

Roku snorted. "Who do you think you are, Yuugi? You of all people are certainly not above the law. Get your things; we're going."

"Going where?" Yuugi asked confusedly, shaking his head. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Back with me to England, of course," Roku explained as if he were talking to a particularly dumb five year old, "Once again, I am your only living relative, leaving you no say in the matter. Go collect your things."

"My things are at Yami's house, where I belong, as well," the teen protested, crossing his arms in defiance. He could feel his temper rising. A few more days and he would officially have been Yuugi Ahknemkhanen, but not with Roku in the picture.

"Don't be stupid, child," Roku snapped, "I want to be in England before supper. You'll collect whatever you want from here, and then we'll drive to this other house to pick up the rest of your things. Unless you want your precious Ahknemkhanens to be sued for everything they own for trying to steal you from me." As he turned to leave, Roku's eyes landed on the bell hanging loosely from the side of the door. With a sneer, he reached up and tore it down. "Tch, how useless," he remarked with disgust, tossing it behind him, "This place is practically falling down."

Yuugi barely managed to snatch the bell out of the air, and he stared after Roku as he walked out. That was that. Weeks of planning had been ruined in a matter of minutes. Yuugi knew he had lost for good this time. With a quiet sigh, he pushed the door open and followed his father to the waiting car, head held high. He wouldn't give his "father" the satisfaction.

* * *

**Dresden, Germany, Morning**

Marik flipped open his phone, rolling his luggage out of the tunnel that led off of the airplane and into the terminal and stifling a yawn. Twelve hours on an airplane had certainly taken its toll. He quickly dialed Malik's number and waited, gazing around at all of the people in the airport with a sneer. If only the private jet hadn't been already in use.

"Marik?" Malik asked timidly when he picked up.

Marik raised his eyebrow at the quaver in his lover's voice. How odd. "Malik, hey. How are you? How long would it take you to get to the airport?"

"I'm fine. Wait, why? Marik, are you here?" Malik asked suspiciously.

"No need to sound so happy about it, love. But yes, I'm here. I need to talk to you in person. It's urgent," Marik explained briefly, bemused by his boyfriend's reaction.

"A-Alright. I'll see you in about an hour at the front entrance?" Marik suggested, sounding unsteady.

"Something wrong, Malik?" Marik asked as he made his way over to a little shop that seemed to be selling pastries. Something other than airline food sounded fantastic, even if it was first-class airline food. Spaghetti and surf and turf did not a light lunch make.

"Ah, no. Well, yes, but I'll tell you when I get there," he explained in a rush, "I'll see you there!" And with that, the line went dead.

Marik pulled the phone away from his ear and snapped it shut with a frown, staring at it as if it had personally offended him. Malik was acting really, really strange. He paled suddenly. Did Malik know? How could he know? No, Marik decided, shaking his head vigorously as if he was shaking off the very thought of it. There's no way Malik could know. Was there?

Malik shuddered as he hung up the phone, dread working its way into every corner of his consciousness. Marik was here, and Marik had something to talk to him about that he could only say in person. Oh, gods, he know.

"How could he know?" Malik yelled to himself as he pulled on his heavy jacket. It didn't add up! "There's no way! We're an ocean apart!"

"And yet…," Alex added cheekily, making his presence in the doorway known.

Malik spun around, fixing Alex with a piercing glare that would've knocked him flat on his back if looks could kill. "And just what do you want?"

Alex hummed, seeming to ponder something. "How do you say it in English… I want some of your ass? I believe that is how it is said."

"Fuck off, asshole, I have to meet Marik at the airport in an hour." Malik wrapped a worn, red scarf around his neck before slipping on his suede boots. "I don't have time to deal with you."

"This Marik is coming?" Alex asked, a hint of fear lacing his tone. He crossed his arms and leaned heavily against the doorway. "Why is he coming? What reason does he have for to be here?"

"He said he had something to talk to me about, and, believe me, I'm going to tell him all about you," Malik threatened testily, approaching Alex. "Move." When Alex didn't budge, Malik felt his temper rise. Alex had picked a very bad day to heckle him. "I said move or else, Alexander!"

Alex merely smirked. "What are you going to do about it, my little sex kitten?"

Malik's eyebrows furrowed in fury, and faster than you could say sexual harassment, he was stepping around one very unconscious German and heading down the hallway.

Their reunion was, for lack of a better word, desperate. As soon as Marik stepped out of the airport and sighted Malik, the younger teen went charging for him. Dropping his croissant on the snowy sidewalk, Marik scooped Malik up into his arms and caught his lips in a hard kiss that nearly knocked the wind out of both of them. All of a sudden, they couldn't get enough of each other. The normal skill and care they both were so proud of when it came to kissing went completely out the window as they tangled their tongues together in a sloppy, passionate, and very public display of affection.

"I," Malik tried to say in between wet kisses, "Missed."

"You," Marik finished, moving down to suck and bite at Malik's neck, "So damn much."

"Marik," Malik said with determination, bringing up a hand to place it over Marik's mouth, "I have to talk to you, too. It's very important."

"Where can we go?" Marik asked, putting Malik back down onto the snowy ground.

Malik shifted his eyes to the side, suddenly unable to meet his boyfriend's gaze. "We could go back to the dormitories. The thing I have to talk to you about is there. Oh, Marik!" he cried suddenly, whipping his head up to look pleadingly into Marik's eyes, "Whatever you do, don't hate me. Please, I don't think I could handle it."

Marik felt a lump rise in his throat, so he simply nodded and held onto Malik's hand as he led the way.

When they arrived at the dormitories, Malik was hoping against all odds that Alex hadn't come back around yet. As he unlocked the door to the room, however, Alex was conscious and waiting for them. He was sitting on his side of the room on his bed, sporting a very impressive-looking black eye.

Oh, hell.

"Marik, this is Alexander Trommler, my roommate. He," Malik stopped, searching for the right words. Quick like a band-aid, Malik. With a nervous sigh, he continued, "He date raped me at a party."

"I did not!" Alex protested, standing up and fixing a fierce glare on Malik, "You are the one who asked for it!"

"I was drunk off my ass, and you took advantage of me!" Malik countered, balling his hands into fists.

Their chests almost bumped together as they argued. "How was I supposed to know that? You are such a slut all the time, so I couldn't tell!"

"You take that back!" Malik screamed, "I am not a slut!" The painful memories of all the times he had been verbally attacked last year came flooding back to him. The word slut was something he was used to hearing.

"You are right," Alex agreed with an evil smirk, "You are not a slut. You are a whore!"

Tiny beads of moisture appeared in the corners of Malik's eyes, and he immediately blinked them away. "Stop it right now, or so help me God, I'll run you through with that coat rack in the corner!"

"Both of you shut the fuck up right now," Marik growled from the doorway, instantly silencing both of them. Their eyes were trained on him in fear as he continued, "We're going to talk about this like mature adults. Starting with you," he said, pointing to Alex.

"You are his boyfriend, the one called Marik, yes?" Alex asked, holding up his hands in a placating gesture, "Surely you will understand the allure of Malik. I did not even know he was taken!"

"You knew damn well," Malik corrected him in a wounded tone with a glower. He folded his arms tightly against his chest and leaned against the wall.

"Believe me, kid," Marik growled with his eyes trained on Alex, cracking his knuckles, "I have no intention of taking your side in the least. I love Malik, I believe in him, and I'm going to break your face."

"What?" Alex cried, backing up a few steps.

"What?" Malik asked quietly at the same time, knowing Marik would hear him in spite of Alex's scream.

Marik dutifully turned to face Malik, an odd look of disbelief on his face. "You thought I would take his side? Babe, how many times have I told you I love you?"

"Oh," Malik replied quietly, suddenly finding the pattern of the carpet very interesting but nevertheless looking immensely pleased.

"Now," Marik continued, rounding on Alex with a smirk that bordered on sadistic, "I believe you raped my boyfriend? That's something I'm afraid I cannot let slide."

Malik knew he could and should stop Marik from throttling his roommate, but, in all honesty, he really didn't care what happened to Alex at that particular moment.

When Alex had limped from the room, Marik followed him to the door before shutting and locking it. "We really need to talk now," he said, turning to face Malik, who had crawled onto his bed and was looking forlorn again. Walking over, Marik picked his boyfriend up and set him down on his lap. "Tell me what happened?"

It all came out then. Malik told him about the party, how amazing German beer tasted, and the "stranger" he hit on. "The morning after, I was so upset that I didn't even eat. All I could think about was how you would hate me if I told you the truth." Letting the truth finally come out felt good; it felt better to know that Marik didn't blame him.

Marik tilted Malik's chin up and kissed him with deliberate slowness, running his hand along the smooth skin of his love's face. "I could never hate you." After a moment, he continued with a heavy sigh, "I hope you won't hate me after I tell you what I have to say."

Malik looked at him with frightened curiosity, wondering what could be worse that what he had just revealed. "What?"

"I sort of," Marik began but stopped. He rubbed his face vigorously with the hand that wasn't holding onto his boyfriend, "Malik, I got really trashed at a party, and I fucked someone. I have no idea who it was, but I swear I left as soon as I woke up."

Malik was stunned into silence for a moment, but after a few seconds he sighed, shaking his head. "I can't exactly be mad at you, can I? That would make me a hypocrite."

"Don't forgive me because you feel obligated to," Marik insisted, grabbing Malik's chin and forcing him to look directly at him, "I want to forgive me because you love me and you know how sorry I am."

'Marik cheated on you!' Malik's mind screamed at him, while another part was yelling, "Look how sorry he is! He looks like a wounded animal!' His eyes shifted back and forth for a few seconds, as if he was watching the voices argue. With a quick shake of his head, he gave Marik a small smile. "I love you, and I know you won't do it again, Marik," he whispered.

"Damn straight I won't," Marik agreed, pulling Malik's head forward for a rough, determined kiss.

Thinking back on it, locking the door was an excellent idea.

* * *

**Somewhere over the Indian Ocean, Late Afternoon**

Yuugi barely had time to send a quick, distressed text to Yami as Roku argued with the Ahknemkhanens. It had taken longer than expected, but far too soon for his liking, Yuugi was being ushered onto his father's private jet that would reach Great Britain by nightfall. Nobody had spoken a word to him since they had left Yami's house. Neither Roku, the chauffer, nor even the flight attendants had said a single thing to him. But every time Yuugi pulled out his phone in the hopes of sending an S.O.S. to Yami, Roku had snapped at him to put the blasted contraption away. The small teen was afraid that it would be taken from him soon, so he kept it hidden in the waistband of his pants for the majority of the trip.

The Ahknemkhanens had not been too happy about the announcement that the only person their son loved in the world was being whisked away to England for an undetermined amount of time. No, they had been very verbal about their objection to this idea. Unfortunately, there was nothing much to be done, but they had left Yuugi with some inspiring parting words. "Yuugi," Mrs. Ahknemkhanen had said to him with a firm, powerful hand on his tiny shoulder, "Don't let him see you break. We are proud, unshakable people, and we are confident that you will do our name justice. If it is at all possible, we will send you aid." She had then slipped a scrap of paper into his pocket and turned him back over to Roku.

While her little speech certainly didn't comfort him much, it kindled the flame of hidden determination within him and inspired in him a confidence he hadn't thought possible. She had spoken of him like part of the family. In her own way, Mrs. Ahknemkhanen had shown him that she accepted him as her son. Now, as he hid in the private jet's bathroom, quickly typing out a text message for Yami, he spared the piece of paper a second glance. When he had finished his message, he pulled it out of his jacket pocket and unfolded it. There, written in rich purple ink, was their home address, phone number, and business numbers.

'Y, don't reply to this. I'm going to England. Call your parents; they know. –Y'

* * *

**~~LATE FEBRUARY~~**

* * *

**Rawlings University Dorm, Night**

Bakura paced the floor of his dorm room incessantly, completely numb to the world around him. He couldn't feel his leg muscles screaming for rest after a three hour practice and two hours of constant walking around the room in a loop. He couldn't hear the low rumbling of the heaters in the room trying to combat the ten degree temperature seeping through the walls. He couldn't smell the hot, fresh dinner that had just been delivered to his room on a silver platter; his favorite meal of steak and potatoes went completely unnoticed.

Ryou was dying.

A letter had come for him just that afternoon after nearly three months without contact from his hospitalized angel. It was written in a neat, unfamiliar penmanship that could not have been Ryou's own. The paper was dotted with odd, wrinkled parts here and there, a clear sign that the writer had been crying. Bakura felt like crying, too, as he read it. He could just picture Ryou laying broken in a hospital bed while one of his parents listened to his soft, strained voice and writing down what he said.

Snapping the letter up off of his desk, he reread it very slowly for about the fifth time, but the words were all still the same.

_'Dear Bakura_,' it read, _'I'm sorry I haven't been able to contact you in a while. Things are going very, very badly over here. I've wanted to call or write to you for an awfully long time, but I have nothing but bad news. I'm dying, Bakura. My parents' money has almost run out, and I don't have much time left. I was hoping you would come visit me one last time. I need to tell you I love you, and I want to hear you say you love me. Love always, Ryou._'

Bakura let out a choked, anguished moan, throwing himself down onto his bed. He felt like his heart was breaking in his chest. Correction, he felt like his heart was wearing away, chipping and cracking so slowly that time had almost seemed to stop. With an arm over his eyes, he screamed as loud for as long as he could, only slightly comforted by the fact that the soundproof walls meant he could be alone while he broke down. When he finally took a big gulp of air, he felt marginally better. He felt determined. This was no time to break down. Ryou needed him.

Picking up his phone, he dialed his house number and waited impatiently. "Come on, come on, pick up the damn phone!"

"Yes? Ah, hello, Bakura," Mrs. Necrophades answered knowingly, having only caught the end of her son's rant, "What can I do for you?"

"I need a plane. Tonight," he demanded urgently, grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging on it so that he wouldn't start screaming again, "Ryou's dying in the hospital, and I need to get there. I also need a huge favor that I swear to you I will pay back eventually."

"Oh, heavens!" Mrs. Necrophades explained, sounding absolutely horrified, "Absolutely. I'll have the family jet flown over at once! And what else do you need, dear? Oh, poor, poor Ryou. You will help him, won't you?"

"Precisely!" Bakura exclaimed, suddenly jumping up and pacing again. His numbness had returned, but it was a confident numbness that usually happened on the court. He became so transfixed with reaching a goal that nothing else mattered. "I want you to take the money to pay for the best treatment money can buy from my account. Spare no expense, Mom."

"Are you sure, sweetie?" Mrs. Necrophades fretted, "Your father and I could pay for it, you know. That money is for your future."

Bakura chuckled to himself, sinking back onto his bed. "He is my future."


	9. The Reassurance

**~~Early March~~**

* * *

**England, Early Afternoon**

Yami double-checked the address on the slip of paper in the pocket of his gray suit jacket, making sure he had the right place. When his parents said that Roku was a millionaire with a ruthless business sense living in a mansion on the west coast of the United Kingdom, the teen had a vague idea of what to expect. What he hadn't planned on, however, was it being this easy. Pushing his sunglasses up onto the top of his head and making sure the collar of his white dress shirt was still at a casual angle, he mentally prepared himself for what he was about to do.

When he had first received Yuugi's text, his first instinct was to immediately text him back. But Yuugi had specifically told him not to, so he dialed up his father's business number. His father had explained to him in a very disgruntled tone how the tactless, rude Roku Mutou had barged into his home unannounced and demanded all of Yuugi's belongings. He told him about how they did their best, but Roku had won for the moment. Neither he nor Mrs. Ahknemkhanen had any thoughts of giving up. In fact, they had been the ones to suggest that Yami go pay the Mutou's a visit up in merry old England. All they needed was a little dirt on Roku to use in the custody trials that they were whipping up. Any kind of evidence at all that Roku Mutou was an unfit father, and Yuugi would be as good as free.

With rigid determination, Yami stepped up to the wrought iron gate and pushed the intercom button before slipping his hands casually into the pockets of his khaki slacks. After a few seconds, a deep, gravelly voice answered. "Mutou residence. Who has come calling?"

"Yami Ahknemkhanen, here to see Yuugi Mutou, if you please," Yami replied smoothly and politely, subconsciously switching over into the voice he used specifically for flirting or charming. The jaunty air with which he commanded his mannerisms made him feel like a spy on an important mission. In a way, he was just that.

"There is no one by that name here, sir," the voice replied in an almost mechanic way. The hesitation in his voice did not go unnoticed.

"I know for a fact that Roku Mutou's son has come to live here, sir. Ah, it's so impersonal to talk through this intercom," Yami complained, hoping that the man had a soft side, "Would you kindly join me at the gate?"

"Just a moment, sir," the voice conceded, and Yami only had to wait a moment before a very large, dark-skinned man in a sharp, pinstripe tuxedo came striding down the cobblestone path leading from the mansion to the gate. "Good afternoon, sir."

"Good afternoon to you, too," Yami greeted back, "Is there a reason Mr. Mutou asked you to lie to everyone about Yuugi's presence here?" When the butler simply looked uncomfortable, Yami continued, a suspicious smile on his face. "Or has he asked you to specifically conceal the truth from me?"

"You have a sharp mind, Mr. Ahknemkhanen," the butler replied, softening slightly, "Yes, Yuugi is here, and yes, Mr. Mutou has asked me to conceal the truth from you specifically if you were to come here."

"You seem like a true gentleman, sir," Yami complimented smoothly in his most pleasant tone. "Surely you can understand where I'm coming from if I tell you the entire story. Yuugi is the man I love, and his father took him away from us just as we were about to gain the means to take care of him after the tragic loss of his closest relative," the teen explained, letting his emotions play freely on his face as he related the story, "My parents and I need to make sure he's alright." He paused and shook his head, a from set deep into his features. "No, forgive me. I'm not here to simply check up on him."

The butler nodded, touching a finger to his temple. "I did not believe that for even the second after you said it, sir."

Yami smiled. "You're quite sharp yourself, my friend. You see, I am here to search for any kind of information that might paint Mr. Mutou in an… unfavorable light, shall we say. Any tidbit that might make him out to be an unfit parent would allow us to take Yuugi back from him."

A look of relief crossed the butler's face, and he stepped to the side to push a few buttons on the side of the gate. He then stepped to the side as the wrought iron gates swung inward. "I understand your urgency, sir. Mr. Mutou is at a meeting and isn't expected to be back for a few hours."

Yami extended his hand, eyes sparkling with untold gratitude. "You don't know how much this means to me, sir."

They walked together in silence up to the large, stone mansion. When they stepped inside, Yami nodded approvingly at the interior. It was very traditional, but with a subtle modern touch. His polished dress shoes made a pleasing clicking noise on the polished black marble floors as he walked.

Before they parted ways, the butler pointed him in the right direction. "Just up the stairs and to the right, sir. Oh, and," he added, almost as an afterthought, "I don't think it will be all that difficult to find some of this evidence you are looking for. Just make sure you leave before Master Roku arrives."

Yami nodded, a sense of foreboding creeping into him as he ascended the staircase.

* * *

Yuugi laid on his belly in the middle of the plush, carpeted floor of his room, meticulously putting together one of his many puzzles. This particular one happened to be his favorite; it was made up of two thousand pieces, and, when assembled, it bore the picture of a wizard dressed in purple robes. It was one of the many puzzles he had brought along with him from the game shop a few months ago when he first moved to the United Kingdom. 'Kidnapped is more like it,' Yuugi thought to himself with a scowl. Honestly, sometimes he couldn't believe it himself. Some days, he would wake up and imagine that he could still smell Yami's scent all around him, while on other days, he swore he could feel the springs from his old mattress at the game shop. Then, he would open his eyes to the muted gray color scheme of his room at the Mutou mansion, and it would all come rushing back to him in an instant.

Clicking another piece into his puzzle, Yuugi tilted his head to look out the single window in his room. It was blindingly sunny and cheerful out. Yuugi scowled. Rolling over gingerly so that he was on his back, he frowned up at the ceiling. He hadn't heard from Yami at all since he came to live with his father. Either his letters were being withheld and his calls blocked, or Yami was too busy to spare him a second thought. It wasn't very likely that Yami had forgotten him, so that left him to conclude that his bastard of a father was keeping him under a tighter watch than he thought.

A knock on the door startled him out of his brooding. He shot to his feet like a rocket, scrambling for the door. "One second!" he called, fighting to keep his voice level. Hadn't Roku gone out for the day? Why was he back? Yuugi felt blind panic well up in him at the prospect of another altercation with his father.

However, when he opened the door, it wasn't his father. It was Yami. Yami was standing in his doorway wearing a gray suit jacket and tailored khaki pants with those sunglasses on top of his head that made him look like someone out of a spy movie. Yuugi stepped backwards out of shock. "Yami?" he asked, almost not daring to believe his eyes.

Immediately, Yami stepped up to him and swept him off his feet in a tight hug, spinning him around in a circle. "You don't know how good it is to see you, Yuugi," he stated, looking up at the teen in his arms with watery eyes.

"I missed you so much, Yami," Yuugi confessed, laughing as Yami spun them around again. "What are you doing here?"

Yami's smile dropped a little, and he set Yuugi down. "I don't have much time, so I need to cut right to the chase. I'm here to collect information on Roku," he stated simply, taking Yuugi's hand and pulling him over to the bed.

Yuugi sat down next to Yami, feeling uneasy and a little let down. He was hoping that Yami had come to whisk him away from his father. "What kind of information?"

"Well," Yami began, taking Yuugi's hand, "In order to be able to make a strong case against Roku, my parents want to find some kind of proof that he's an unfit parent."

Yuugi shut his eyes, letting a small smile creep onto his face. Unfit parent indeed. "I think I have exactly the kind of proof you're talking about." He had the proof, all right, but he would do anything not to show his boyfriend. Especially not right after they had been reunited.

"You do?" Yami asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

'Guess this is my only way out of here. Suck it up, Yuugi,' he admonished himself. "Yeah, I do," he replied in a very quiet voice. Without elaborating further, Yuugi moved into a kneeling position and tugged off his light blue t-shirt. He kept his gaze trained on his muted gray sheets so he wouldn't have to see Yami's horrified expression, but he still felt it. "Don't be disgusted with me," he pleaded in a whisper, "Please."

A soft gasp escaped Yami's lips as his eyes roamed his boyfriend's once flawless skin. Bruises of all shades, some fresh and purple while others brown and fading, marred his body. A single, thin scar ran from just under his collar bone to his navel in a long, pinkish line. Yuugi whimpered when he felt one of Yami's cold hands gently brushing along his scar.

"Yuugi," he murmured, gently tilting the smaller teen's chin up to force him to meet his gaze, "He did this to you?"

Yuugi shivered as he met Yami's intense gaze. "Y-Yeah. He never hits me where someone might see it."

"Don't be ashamed of yourself around me, love." He placed a hand on Yuugi's chest, pushing him gently onto his back. He then crawled on top of him and lightly began kissing along the thin scar and across the bruises with a gentleness that made Yuugi shudder. "You're still beautiful," he whispered against his skin.

"Y-Yami?" he asked breathlessly. His kisses stung a little, and they made him feel overly conscious of the fact that he was lying there, his wounds bare to his lover's eyes. He flinched at the thought, not wanting to push Yami away yet feeling like he desperately needed to.

"Yuugi, you have to believe me," Yami insisted, voice quavering as he kissed gently at the final bruise, "I would've never let you go so easily if I'd known this was what would happen."

Yuugi's lips parted in surprise. Yami sounded like he was about to cry. "Oh, Yami," he cooed, threading his fingers through his boyfriend's hair and guiding his head back up so that he could talk to him face to face, "This isn't your fault. This could never be your fault." He pulled Yami's head towards his own, stopping when their lips were barely brushing. "Promise me that you'll take me away from here soon."

Yami's eyelids slipped shut. "I promise."

* * *

As Yami was being escorted back out of the mansion by the butler, his thoughts were in a whirlwind. He certainly had the evidence he needed to get Yuugi back for good, but he was apprehensive. This had all of a sudden turned into a very delicate situation. In order to give this evidence to the courts, Yuugi would have to go up there and show everyone the physical damage. The frightened teenager hadn't even wanted to show him, his own boyfriend, his injuries, so obviously there was some psychological damage done, as well.

He sighed aloud, rubbing his forehead as if it would make his headache go away. The butler looked over at him curiously.

"Something wrong, sir?" he asked politely, being careful not to pry.

Yami looked over at him through half-lidded eyes. "Are you aware of what is going on between Roku and his son in this household?" he asked bluntly, almost positive that he knew what the answer was going to be.

The butler hesitated a moment before nodding in defeat. "I'm sorry to say I am, sir. But you must understand, sir, that it is not our place to pry no matter the circumstances."

Yami nodded. "I understand. Would you, along with any other staff members, be willing to testify against Roku if the need for it arose?" he asked carefully, watching as the butler unlocked the gate and opened it for him.

"I… I cannot speak for the others, sir, but I certainly do not wish to lose my job," he replied, shaking his head, "However, if it was called upon me to testify in the courts, I would speak truthfully."

Yami stepped into his car, sliding his sunglasses back over his eyes. "Thank you very much, sir." He paused before adding, "and, please, look out for him for me."

**

* * *

**

Domino City Hospital, Evening

Ryou sighed, looking out of the window of his hospital room at the bright, twinkling stars through slightly glazed eyes. The room was silent except for the steady beeping of the heart monitor, though he barely heard it anymore. His room was located near the back of the hospital, so the bright streetlamps didn't shine light into his room at all hours of the night. This let him have a little view of the night sky through his window on clear nights when the stars were visible. With another tiny sigh, he swept his gaze over the room he'd been calling home for far too long before resting his eyes on his lap. His right arm was laying palm up, and a needle attached to a tube was pumping fluids into him. Looking at it made his stomach turn, so he looked to the bedside table, eyes resting on the photo in the frame next to his phone. "Bakura," he mouthed, barely making any noise before letting his eyelids droop shut.

Damn, he was tired.

If he had thought himself to be weak before, that was nothing compared to what he was now. The old Ryou was a physically fit as Marik compared to the Ryou of now. He couldn't feed himself on his own anymore. He wouldn't have been able to brush his hair if he had any left, either. Life held no color for him anymore; the muted shades of gray that were now his life perfectly matched the color scheme of the building he would call home on his final days of life. It was dreadfully morbid, but there wasn't much else to think about.

As his breathing finally leveled out and he fell into a deep sleep, his door creaked open, and a figure slipped inside. Her eyes, framed with delicate wrinkles, scanned the room quickly before tiptoeing over to Ryou's nightstand. She pulled something out of her pocket and placed in delicately on the little table. With a nod of satisfaction, she turned to face the teen in the bed. Reaching out, the woman placed a hand on Ryou's forehead and ran her fingers over his scalp in an almost motherly gesture.

Soon, Ryou.

**

* * *

**

A/N:

I really hate to break this to you, lovelies, but we're coming down to the end here. I predict two more chapters with an epilogue, but that could change. Probably won't, but it could. I'd love to hear your thoughts. As always, I am Classy Venus, and you are Classy Readers –winky face-


	10. Their Happy Ending part one

**A/N:**

More SFLS for you, readers. Because I love you. This chapter is entirely tendershipping, and the next one will be all puzzleshipping. Ta! Make sure you tell me what you think in a review! I'd remind you in the bottom author's note, but there isn't one. It would ruin my dramatic effect.

**

* * *

**

Domino City Hospital, The Next Morning

It was to a very crowded hospital room that Ryou woke up the next morning. Numerous doctors were either standing around scribbling numbers on their clipboards or hastily rushing in and out of the room carrying all sorts of materials. People were busily ordering each other around left and right, and the whole scene felt very large for the tiny room. Ryou forgot for a second that everything was terrible and that life held no meaning as he curiously watched all of the people. "What's going on?" Every head turned to look at him, and the teen belatedly realized that he had actually spoken his thought.

"We're preparing for your operation," a female nurse replied after a few seconds of indecisive silence in which nobody stepped forward to explain to situation. "It really is quite a rare procedure for this hospital, so special preparations need to be made."

This only served to confuse Ryou further. "How is that possible?" he asked, curling his fingers in a nervous gesture, "My parents don't have the money to-,"

But it was too late; the nurse had already returned to what she was doing. Ryou sighed, furrowing his eyebrows as he thought about the current situation. Who decided to schedule an operation for him so suddenly? Furthermore, why were they permitted to schedule an operation on such short notice? And how in the name of the sweet baby Jesus were his parents paying for this? When he couldn't think up a single answer other than his parents hitting the lottery in the middle of the night, he turned onto his side, doing his best to ignore the doctors swarming around him.

That's when he noticed the card sitting on his bedside table.

He raised the skin above his eye, forgetting that he didn't have eyebrows anymore, as he reached out to pick up the card. It was blank on the front save for a big "N" written in fancy gold script. His lips parted in surprise as he opened it and read.

"Dearest Ryou," it began, "Salutations. I hope this card finds you perfectly surprised. I've no doubt that, as you read this, there are numerous hospital personnel bustling about your room, and you haven't a clue as to why. I will explain what I can for now. We received a call from our Bakura early yesterday about your current condition, and he implored us to lend assistance. Therefore, you have been scheduled to receive a top-of-the-line treatment that will surely put you back on your feet. We'll all talk in person soon. Bakura's coming back to help you recuperate. Maybe we could all go out for lunch? Love, Aina Necrophades."

And for the first time in a very long time, Ryou looked up towards his window and realized with a smile that the sun was shining.

**

* * *

**

The Next Day, Afternoon

"Bakura, quit fidgeting, honey," Mrs. Necrophades chastised gently, patting his knee to get him to stop bouncing it up and down.

The teen mumbled something vulgar and crossed his legs, slumping in the chair and staring unblinkingly at his ankle.

Bakura had arrived early that morning on their family jet. After the nonstop flight from North America, the first thing he did was insist to see Ryou. Unfortunately, since the doctors and nurses were preparing him for his surgery, Bakura was made to wait. Now, as he sat in a hard, plastic chair next to his mother in a room that smelled strongly of antiseptic and air freshener, the effects of his sleepless journey to Japan were staring to catch up with him. He could barely keep his eyes open.

Mrs. Necrophades and Bakura weren't alone in their waiting. Along with Mr. Necrophades, who was sitting on the other side of his son idly flipping through a magazine, the entire room was filled with doctors and nurses wandering around, talking amongst themselves, or filling out paperwork. They were all waiting, some more patiently than others, for the results of Ryou's operation. The only doctors that were allowed to actually observe the procedure were the ones that were deemed necessary; everyone else had to wait in the lobby.

Bakura continued to stare in silence at his ankle; it was easier than attempting to glare all of the nosy asshole doctors out of existence. None of them really cared about Ryou as a person, after all. No, all they were concerned with were the results of his operation. Many of them had been very excited to see the entire Necrophades family together, as well. Aina, Bakura's mother, was the first to step through the doors into the waiting room full of doctors. The usual spring wasn't absent from her step as she practically floated through the doors with a smile for everyone in sight. Then Bakura stalked in, took one look at all of the people, screamed in frustration, and slammed his fist into the wall. Needless to say, everyone was less than thrilled to be stuck in the waiting room with him. They really couldn't form an opinion on Mr. Necrophades, as he hadn't done anything but sit and read his magazine. Nevertheless, a brave soul would occasionally approach the three celebrities to try and make conversation, but Bakura would scare them off quickly enough.

Hours went by with no word on how the procedure was going. While the assembled doctors and nurses were merely growing impatient, Bakura was downright losing his mind. He had nearly bitten someone's hand off for offering him a glass of water only a few minutes ago. The waiting was pure torture. Even if he had brought some work from college to do, he wouldn't have been able to concentrate on it. The teen's mind was a swirling mess of worry. Before Bakura had even realized it, Ryou had become the center of his universe. He was quickly realizing that, without Ryou, life was empty and colorless. Before he had met the little twerp, he had simply been going through the motions, so to speak. Now that he had a taste of the emotions Ryou had shown him, he would never go back.

A door opened, and a tired looking surgeon stepped into the room, mopping at his brow with a cloth. Bakura's eyes widened a fraction at the sight of the bloodstains on the man's scrubs. He cleared his throat, but he already had the rapt attention of everyone in the room. "Thank you for your patience," he began in a deep, raspy voice, "The surgery was a success. The patient was moved to a room for recovery, and his vitals are all strong."

The doctors all cheered, and the room erupted into excited chatter. Aina and Bakura let out weary sighs of relief. Mr. Necrophades casually flipped a page of his magazine. While Aina hurried over to the surgeon, Bakura furiously turned to his father.

"How come you aren't worried?" he demanded, gripping the arm of the plastic chair to keep himself from lunging for his father's neck, "We're both going crazy over here, and you don't even give a damn!"

Mr. Necrophades set the magazine down and turned to really look at Bakura for the first time that day. His brow was wrinkled with lines that physically showed just how concerned he actually was. "We all express our feelings in different ways, son," he explained quietly, "It wouldn't be productive in the least if I worked myself up into a fit the way you have, now would it?" Before Bakura could retort, he continued. "Son, I know you love him. Let's not waste any more time arguing and go to him."

Bakura merely nodded, looking dumbfounded.

* * *

When the three of them followed Ryou's doctor into the room, they were greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Bakura. They had been allowed to wait in the room for Ryou to come out of his surgery because they were his family.

"It's good to finally meet you, Aina," Mrs. Bakura said, hugging Mrs. Necrophades, "I'm Miki."

"Miki," Aina repeated with a smile, "What a beautiful name."

Mr. Bakura and Mr. Necrophades quietly sized each other up before politely shaking hands.

Bakura merely stared. He stood at the foot of the hospital bed, looking down at the broken boy laying in it. Ryou was completely bald, impossibly thin, and unusually pallid. In fact, Bakura barely recognized his love, but he knew it was him. His little chest rise and fell slowly, aided by the machine he was hooked up to. The blankets he was covered by almost seemed to swallow up his tiny frame. At the very least, he looked peaceful due to the amount of painkillers the doctor had him on.

"How was it?" Bakura asked quietly, eyes never leaving Ryou.

The doctor stepped towards him. "The surgery went very smoothly, but some of the damage was irreversible, even with the new lungs," he explained, "He will never fully recover, but it won't ever become this serious again."

Bakura merely nodded. Though he was there physically, his mind was very far away from that room.

* * *

When Ryou woke up, the first thing he saw was Bakura staring back at him with eyes full of concern. He blinked sluggishly, fighting off the remains of the powerful anesthesia they had used to keep him unconscious for his surgery. Everything felt dull and muted, and he found that he couldn't move a single part of his body. Ryou concentrated on moving his fingers, feeling triumphant when he finally getting them to wiggle a little bit after a few seconds. Bakura's face now had a soft smile on it, which was very uncommon for the brash teen. He whispered something.

Ryou blinked his eyes again, trying to part his lips to speak. "Can't hear," he murmured, internally cringing at the rasp in his voice.

"I asked how you're feeling," Bakura repeated, moving to kneel next to him. "You've been out nearly all day."

Ryou thought for a moment, rolling his tongue around in his mouth. "M'alright," he finally managed, rolling his eyes towards Bakura. "Right?"

Bakura seemed to be thinking about what he meant for a moment before understanding crossed his features. "Yeah, you're alright. Maybe never fully well again, they said, but you'll be okay."

Ryou released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "'kay." He stared at Bakura for a minute, realizing how very haggard the other teen looked. He was wearing a rumpled dress shirt and a pair of dark jeans. His normally messy hair was pulled up in a low ponytail, but a few strands were escaping the elastic band. "Tired," Ryou stated.

"You can't be tired after sleeping all day," Bakura joked, reaching out to brush his hand across Ryou's forehead.

"Mean you," Ryou added, trying to shake his head but failing.

"Oh." Bakura looked down at himself, tugging at his shirt. "I guess so. I've been worried about you. The surgery took a while. I nearly killed someone," he admitted with an upward quirk of his lips.

Ryou wanted to raise his eyebrows, but he thought better of it this time and simply settled for parting his lips in astonishment. "Really?"

Bakura chuckled darkly, turning his eyes towards the ceiling briefly before fixing them back on Ryou. "Yeah. Those bastard doctors forgot their place a few times." It was silent for a minute as the two just stared at each other before Bakura seemed to remember something. "I should go get your doctor, shouldn't I?"

"Maybe," Ryou half-agreed, not wanting to give up the first moment he had to be alone with Bakura since the other had left for college.

Bakura stood, leaning down and placing a slow, heavy kiss on Ryou's lips. "I missed you so damned much."

Ryou's eyelids fluttered shut. "Love you, 'Kura."

* * *

Ryou frowned at his reflection in the hand mirror. It had been a few weeks, and his hair was growing in. Not only did he nearly have his eyebrows and eyelashes back, but there was noticeable, white stubble on his head. It wasn't his best look, but it was better than being bald.

He leaned back in the hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling blankly. Bakura hadn't come back from fetching the doctor, and he hadn't been back since. It made him feel empty, in a way. Bakura's mother was supposed to come in for a visit today, but that wasn't the same by any means. Still, any contact with the Necrophades family at this point was more than welcome. Without them, there wouldn't be either him or Bakura.

His parents had visited him almost every day. In the first visit they had paid him, his mother and father had officially apologized to him for all of the things they had put him through in his life. His mom had started crying when she told him how sorry she was for making him go to counseling for loving Bakura. His father even admitted to asking their church's pastor to hound him about seeking help and that it was very wrong of him. Ryou had forgiven them, and for the first time in a very long while, he really believed he had the best parents anyone could ask for.

They never came empty handed, either. A few days ago, along with a whole shopping bag full of candy, Ryou's parents had also brought him a postcard from Bakura. It displayed a picture of the French countryside, and on it Bakura had simply written that he was thinking about him every day and would explain everything as soon as he returned home. What he didn't say was when he would be coming home, and Ryou wasn't the most patient person in the world.

A knock was all the warning he got before Mrs. Necrophades whipped open the door to his room and greeted him with a friendly smile and a peppy greeting. "Hello, my dear Ryou!" she called happily, quickly making her way over to his bedside. "How are you feeling?" she asked. His parents slipped into the room after her, saying their hellos in a much calmer fashion.

"Very well, thank you, and hello, Mom and Dad" Ryou replied with a smile. "How are you, Mrs. N?"

"Excited, dear! Now, we have to be quick about this whole discharging business today, because we're to be at the café a few blocks down for one," she informed him hurriedly, and Ryou noticed she was carrying a canvas bag.

"What's in the bag?" he asked, quirking his head to the side.

"Clothes for you, of course!" Aina replied, "Now hurry up and get dressed."

A few minutes and a lot of stumbling later, Ryou was dressed in a pair of snugly fitted, light wash jeans and a light blue sweatshirt. They had also brought his favorite sneakers along for him to wear. As he examined himself in his little mirror again, Aina suddenly declared that she almost forgot the most important part. She reached into her purse and pulled out a gray, knitted beanie with a little letter "R" stitched onto the bottom of it. Handing it to him confidently, she declared that it was Mr. Necrophades' idea.

"O-Oh," Ryou stuttered in surprise, turning it over in his hands before pulling it over his head. It was warm and comfortable against his skin. "That's really thoughtful. You'll have to tell him I said thank you."

When they were all ready, Mrs. Necrophades took him by the arm and led him carefully out of the hospital. His parents waved as the pair left; they were staying to sign the paperwork. Once they were on the sidewalk, Ryou took a deep breath of the fresh air. Aina waited expectantly as he took a few more breaths. "I feel amazing," he declared after a moment.

Aina broke into a dazzling smile. "That's magnificent, dear!"

Their walk to the café was uneventful, unless you count Ryou stumbling more than his fair share of times due to not having used his legs very much in a while. The café itself was an understated little place on the corner of the street. There was a square sign above the door that read "Café Europa" in gold lettering. As Aina pushed the door open, a bell jingled. It was dimly lit in the shop, and the hardwood tables were painted a dark blue to go with the dark wood of the walls and floor. Bright yellow swirls of paint decorated the ordering counter to contrast the otherwise gloomy color scheme with a little cheer.

Bakura was the only person there, not counting the man behind the counter. He was sitting at the table farthest from the door, typing something on his phone. When he heard the ringing of the bell, his head immediately snapped up. He locked eyes with Ryou, and they conversed silently from across the room. Ryou's eyes were watery and happy but also slightly betrayed. Bakura's were apologetic and very nervous.

Aina, noticing the tension in the air, quickly informed them that she would go place their orders and left to engage the waiter behind the counter in a hurry.

Ryou took a few steps forward before swaying on the spot. He shut his eyes and whimpered quietly, trying to steady himself. Strong arms were around him in a matter of seconds, and Bakura led him slowly to the table, muttering a "sorry" and staring at the tabletop as they sat down in the booth together.

"Bakura," Ryou began carefully, raising his hand up and placing it on Bakura's chin, moving his head so that their hazes would meet again. "Is something wrong? Was it something I did?" he asked worriedly, biting his bottom lip nervously.

Bakura looked shocked. "What? No! No, Ryou, don't think that. It wasn't you," he assured him, taking his hand and holding it tightly. "I just had to go, um, run an errand. I'm really sorry it took so long."

"An errand in Paris?" Ryou asked skeptically, rubbing at his eye with his free hand, "Bakura, what's going on?"

Bakura glanced quickly to the counter before looking back at Ryou with renewed determination shining in his eyes. "Alright, you want the truth?" he asked, but he didn't wait for an answer before continuing, "I went to Paris to handpick your engagement ring. I had a whole damn speech ready and everything, too, but I lost the paper I wrote it on somewhere. I was sure I had it, but I can't find it, so I was going to put this off." He paused. "Well, I guess I remember most of it, anyway, but I didn't want to mess it up."

Ignoring Ryou's stunned expression, Bakura pulled a tiny, black box out of his jacket pocket and opened it, holding it up to reveal a thick, platinum band with the biggest diamond Ryou had ever seen set into it. "Ryou, being with you has changed me and made me a better person in ways I can't even begin to describe," he began, voice thick with emotion, "When you yelled at me that time after the party, it was probably the first time I'd ever felt remorse. When you agreed to go out with me, it was the first time I'd ever felt in love. When you were hospitalized, I was lost. I couldn't focus on anything anymore. I was almost thrown off of the basketball team because I could barely play!" He stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself. He had started to tear up. "Fuck it. What I'm trying to say is that my life was changed forever the day I met you, and I'm never going to lose you again. Marry me?"

At that point, Ryou was crying so hard he couldn't even say yes. He clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a sob and nodded vigorously. Bakura grinned, taking the ring out of the box and slipping it onto Ryou's left ring finger.

Taking a deep breath, Ryou looked down at his hand and wiggled his fingers. He looked back up at Bakura, and, smiling brightly through his tears, said, "Perfect fit."


	11. Their Happy Ending part two

**A/N:**

The super intense chapter of Yami and Yuugi begins now! This is the longest chapter I've ever written, by the way. Nearly 8,000 words (16 pages)!

Be sure to vote in my **NEW POLL**.

**DISCLAIMER: **I tried very hard to search for what a normal child abuse case would be, but I didn't get many solid answers. All I do know is that the abuser actually being tried as a criminal is very rare, and that disgusts me. So, I'm making a good deal of the court case scene up. Please bear with me.

* * *

**~Late May~**

* * *

**In England**

Yuugi shuffled tiredly to the head of the dining room table, listlessly rubbing the back of his head. The moment he sat down, a servant appeared with a bowl of cereal for him. The servant placed it in front of him, and Yuugi sent her away with a friendly wave of his hand. He then set himself to the task of eating, gingerly picking up the spoon. After several seconds of hesitation, Yuugi steeled himself and scooped some of the food into his mouth. He chewed slowly, wincing with every movement of his bruised jaw. Roku hadn't been happy when he had gotten home after Yami left, and the bruises weren't showing any signs of fading. Apparently his business meeting hadn't gone well.

Looking up and out the enormous, arched window in the massive dining hall, the teen wondered to himself when exactly Yami was going to send the help he had promised. He had received a particularly nasty blow to the head as well as the one to his jaw that evening, so the details of his boyfriend's visit were fuzzy. However, he did know that Yami had mentioned something about helping him. With a shake of his head to move his blond bangs out of his face, Yuugi picked up another spoonful of cereal and gently tipped it past his lips. It was almost laughable that, just as he was getting used to living in constant fear, he was promised rescue. And from someone who wasn't even his family, no less. No, he was being rescued from his family this time.

Yuugi watched through half-lidded eyes as Roku, with his jet black hair slicked back and dressed in a gray pinstriped suit, strolled into the room with a newspaper and the mail under his arm. It was kind of humorous to think how he used to believe that getting along with this man was important; it was what his grandfather had wanted, after all. "Good morning, Father," Yuugi greeted in a semi-cheerful tone, as was his custom. If he didn't acknowledge his father every time the stoic man entered, trouble would surely follow.

"Yuugi," Roku replied with a curt nod, walking the length of the table and sitting down next to his son. "You slept well, I trust?"

"Well enough, thank you," was Yuugi's dismissing reply. He stirred his breakfast absently, noting the particularly large stack of mail his father was now sorting through.

"Bills, bills, bills, bills," Roku muttered to himself, flipping through the stack. He froze suddenly, staring at heavily-stamped envelope with a look of disbelief on his face. "What the-?" he asked, not bothering to direct his question at anyone or even finish it. Tearing open the envelope, Roku pulled out a slip of pink paper. He read it quickly, eyes darting across the page nervously. "This cannot be right. It cannot be right! Someone get on the line with my lawyer!"

"What's wrong, father?" Yuugi asked concernedly, leaning over so as to sneak a peek at the document. If he was calling Maike, the Mutou family lawyer, something big had to be up.

Roku rounded on him. "You!" he roared, jumping to his feet and banging his fists down on the table. "This is all your doing, brat!"

Yuugi cringed, and he gripped the arms of his chair so hard his knuckles were shaking from the effort. "What did I do this time, father?" he asked, forcing his voice to stay as level as he could make it.

"You just couldn't keep your damn mouth shut, could you, brat?" he yelled, pinning Yuugi's wrists to the back of the chair with his hands. He tightened his grip and watched as tears sprung to his son's eyes. "You live here in luxury with all the material goods you could ever ask for, yet you would still sell out your own father?"

Yuugi gasped in pain as Roku continued to tighten his grip. "Father, p-please!" he cried out, "What are you talking about?"

"That was a court summons in that envelope, you wretch!" Roku released the boy's wrists, snatching Yuugi by the chin and yanking his head up so that his body followed suit and he was standing. "I'm being sued by the Ahknemkhanens on behalf of one Yuugi Mutou for child abuse!" he spat venomously.

Yuugi made a strangled noise as Roku's hand moved to grasp him by the throat, holding him suspended in midair. His hands came up to his father's, clawing at them in a feeble attempt to get him to relax his hold. Opening his mouth, Yuugi tried to cry out for help, but all that came out was a hiss. Roku seemed to realize then that he was choking his son, and he released him after a moment where he simply smiled smugly.

Yuugi dropped to the floor on his knees, massaging his neck and gasping for air. He dared not raise his eyes from the floor for fear of what he would see.

"You'll never learn your lesson, will you, Yuugi?"

* * *

Yuugi sunk farther down in the large tub, letting the water come up to just below his eyes. The water was almost painfully hot, but it felt soothing on his tired body. He lifted his head and blew on the frothy bath bubbles, causing them to spray up into the air. Oh, but he was sore. That last punishment has been almost more than he could handle. Lifting his leg to examine a particularly nasty welt from being kicked, Yuugi flinched at the discoloration that was already starting to form.

He sighed, staring up at the ceiling and reflecting on what his father had been yelling as he inflicted the punishment. It would only be another week until their case would be brought before the courts in America. It had been necessary to appeal to a court that had been influenced by neither the Ahknemkhanens nor Roku Mutou. In Roku's case, it was corruption in the English Parliament, while the Ahknemkhanens were so well liked that they were unlikely to get an unbiased ruling either. They wanted an unquestionable victory, no doubt.

"One more week," Yuugi stated to himself, voice echoing off of the walls in the enormous bathroom, "One week until freedom."

* * *

**In Japan**

Yami paced back and forth across the floor of his parents' home office, tugging at his hair and clicking his phone open and shut anxiously.

Mr. Ahknemkhanen, not looking up from his laptop, nudged his wife gently, drawing her attention to their son. She looked first to her husband and then at Yami, raising her eyebrow. "Atem, we are working as fast as we can. This case needs to be absolutely airtight."

Yami's head snapped towards her, but he didn't stop walking. "I know, you guys, and I am sorry. I just can't calm down. Seeing him like that just put me on edge. Who knows what could be happening right now!"

"Honey," Mrs. Ahknemkhanen said, massaging her temples tiredly, "It's best not to dwell on what may or may not be happening. He's an ocean away from us now. Let's just focus on remedying that, shall we?"

Yami's shoulders slumped.

* * *

**In England, One Week Later**

"Fix your tie," Roku snapped, clicking his fingers at Yuugi as they boarded the jet bound for America.

Yuugi would have left it be, but he didn't want to seem insubordinate. Straightening his pale, green tie, he immediately moved to the back of the small plane and dropped his bag by a tiny, leather seat in the corner next to one of the little windows. His eyes followed his father as he barked orders at the flight attendant before sitting down in a large, plushy chair and taking a sip out of the wine glass the attendant had handed him. Only when his father was sitting did Yuugi do the same.

"Let's review, as I want to make sure you behave yourself," Roku said to him coldly, crossing his legs and swirling his wine glass as he glared at his son. "What will you do once we arrive at the courthouse tomorrow?"

"Make myself as small as possible. Make eye contact with no one," Yuugi recited, "Stay close always."

"And what are you to say when called upon to testify?"

"I am emotionally scarred from the death of my grandfather, and, as a result, I desperately seek attention by hurting myself. I told my friend that my father was abusing me, and the situation spiraled out of my control. I will accept my punishment with dignity, for I am only getting what I deserve," he said, voice completely level and devoid of emotion.

Satisfied for the moment, Roku turned away from him to yell orders into his cell phone.

Yuugi slouched in his seat, completely disgusted with himself.

Many hours later, after they had landed in a place called Washington, Yuugi found himself in a very beautiful hotel room overlooking a peaceful scene of large, drooping willow trees surrounding a serene lake. Though it was dark, he could see the picturesque view clearly out of his balcony due to the bright, silvery moon hanging in the sky. As he stood on said balcony, tiny hands gripping the marble railing that enclosed the little space, he stared up into the inky night as a sense of calm enveloped him. For once, he was finally alone. His father had booked a suite for them both, but things had gone awry for Roku in ways that he hadn't properly explained to his son, and the man had to stay in an entirely different hotel altogether. If he had to guess, Yuugi would have banked on the Ahknemkhanens, though he didn't know how they could pull anything like this off.

The hotel itself was an upscale place with a very regal feel; Yuugi's first thought upon stepping into it was that Yami would like it very much. His room was comparable to a prince's bedchambers, though Yuugi had to admit to himself that he really didn't know what such a thing would look like in the first place. Nevertheless, it was a splendid room with a large bathroom complete with a shower and a luxury bath. His favorite feature, however, had to be the enormous four-poster bed. It had long drapes of a deep purple and would easily fit six people twice Yuugi's size in it. The first thing he had done upon entering his room was to tie back one of the heavy curtains and fling himself down onto the plushy mattress.

It was almost a dream come true. To have come this far with Roku, only to be separated from him at the moment when he had counted on being guarded the most. As he breathed in the cool, night air, wrapping the thick folds of the bathrobe he had found on the bed for him tighter around his body, everything somehow seemed right. Sure, he wasn't free from Roku yet, and, yes, he hadn't a clue as to where Yami was. And, make no mistake, he still had yellow and brown bruises covering his skin that pained him when he moved. Somehow, right in that moment, none of it seemed to matter. Later, he mused dreamily, he might wander down to the kitchens to see if he could learn a thing or two about any special "Washington" cuisine. The opportunity to learn something about cooking was one that the teen would never pass up, and not even his current circumstances could make him make an exception.

"But first," Yuugi said aloud to himself, mouth curving up into a small grin as he turned to head back into his room, "That whirlpool bath tub."

* * *

"Room two hundred and three, sir," the front desk clerk told the fatigued man standing in front of her, "If you would just sign your name here, please."

The man took her pen and wrote his name quickly where she had pointed. He then motioned for the bellhop standing near the door with his luggage to follow him and, after he had been handed his card key, set off down the hallway to locate his room with a new determination in his step.

"You wouldn't happen to know where room two hundred and three is, would you, sir?" he asked the bellhop in perfect English, stopping in front of the elevator.

The bellhop nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir! It's one floor up and to the right. There's a lovely view of our pond from that room, sir."

"Perfect," he replied smoothly, stepping into the elevator. Once they had gotten back out and walked down the hallway a ways, they both stopped in front of a door with a fancy brass knocker and a plate that read "203".

"Well, sir, this is it," the bellhop announced, voice squeaking a little with enthusiasm.

"I can see that for myself, thank you," he replied, but not unkindly. Taking his rolling suitcase from the worker, he fished around in the pocket of his leather jacket, coming up with some crumpled bills. "I'm not too good with American money yet, so just keep the change please. Good evening."

"T-thank you, sir!" The bellhop scurried away, marveling at the tip he had been given.

The man just shook his bangs out of his face and, with a chuckle of amusement, knocked on the door.

* * *

Yuugi sighed in bliss, marveling at what seemed to be magic he was soaking in. Not only were the bath bubbles spilling over the tub, but they were also scented to smell like coconuts. Yuugi loved coconuts. And the best part of making an absolute mess with his bathwater? He didn't have to clean any of it up later. He could splash around in the tub all he wanted, and maids would come by to set everything back in perfect condition in the morning. Yuugi dunked his head underwater, but resurfaced almost immediately, quirking his eyebrow.

Had he just heard a knock?

The teen listened very carefully, and, sure enough, another knock came. It was coming from his hotel room door. Who would be calling on him? It couldn't be Roku, could it?

With trepidation, Yuugi climbed slowly out of the bath tub and toweled off briefly before slipping his bathrobe back on. The knock came again, and Yuugi hastened his pace. "I'm coming!" he yelled, shuffling for the door. Without bothering to use the peep hole, he undid the lock and swung the door open, mentally preparing for another altercation with his father on his unpunctual answering of the door.

"Why are you cringing like that, Angel?"

Yuugi opened his eyes wide. "Yami!" he yelled in surprise, throwing his arms around his boyfriend's middle, "What are you doing here?"

Yami chuckled, returning Yuugi's embrace. "I'm staying here for the trial. My parents' room is right across from us," he explained, motioning to the door behind him. "We took, ah, special measures to make Roku's room in a sister hotel to this one across town."

Yuugi nodded, deciding that the explanation made enough sense for right now. "Wait." He pulled away from Yami, looking up to search his boyfriend's eyes. "You said your parents' room is across from our room. Our room?" he repeated.

Yami smirked, resting his elbow against the doorframe and looking down at Yuugi with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "You don't expect me to sleep alone, do you?"

Yuugi mirrored his expression. "Oh, goodness no. I wouldn't dream of doing that to you. In fact, I was just in the middle of my bath, and you look pretty tired. Why don't you come join me?" he suggested, taking Yami's hand and leading him inside the room.

Yuugi left Yami to lock the door and set aside his luggage, slowly undoing his robe before dropping it on the floor and disappearing into the bathroom. His face was flushed with anticipation; he'd never been so bold about sex before. Though they had almost done it once before, he had been really nervous and made Yami stop halfway through. Before, he had been so filled with anxiety and hesitation, but now all he felt was excited.

He lowered himself into the tub, resigning himself to wait for Yami. He didn't have to wait long. As he walked over, Yami began to remove his clothing. His leather jacket that he was so fond of found itself in a pile along with his shirt, belt, and shoes. Yuugi raised himself up onto his knees and reached over to undo the button on his jeans, sliding them down his boyfriend's hips. All the while, their gazes were locked together. The intensity from Yami's stare was enough to send chills up and down his spine.

Another tug and the boxers were gone, leaving Yami just as bared as Yuugi was. He slipped into the tub, as it was large enough for them both to fit comfortably, and pulled Yuugi onto his lap, running skilled hands slowly up his chest before stopping at the base of his neck in order to drag him down for a searing kiss. "You," Yami started to say, but he gasped as Yuugi's hips moved against his own.

"Me," Yuugi replied, repeating the action slowly. "I what?" he asked teasingly, slipping his hand under the water.

Yami groaned heatedly, tilting his head back. "You're so, ahh, sexy." His fingers dug into Yuugi's milky white skin, and the little teen found himself fighting off a quiver of fear. 'It's a good touch, Yuugi,' he told himself sternly, 'Yami doesn't mean to hurt you.' Lowering his head to roll one of Yami's nipples between his lips, he dragged his fingernails along what he knew to be his boyfriend's sweet spot; he wasn't disappointed at the reaction.

Yami arched up, head hitting the edge of the tub as he let out a loud cry. His hands went up to Yuugi's hair, and he gripped hard, moaning his lover's name over and over again.

He quelled another surge of fear that the rough treatment brought. "I can handle this, damn it," he whispered against the skin of Yami's chest.

Yami's eyes had taken on a slightly hazy look, and he made quick work of leaving a mark on Yuugi's collarbone. His hands trailed up and down the other's back, but he stopped when he realized Yuugi was perfectly still in his arms.

Wordlessly, Yuugi pulled away from the embrace and stood up. He reached for a towel and wrapped it around himself quickly before making a hasty exit into the bedroom. Yami's concerned eyes followed his every movement.

He lowered himself to the bed, drawing the curtains and curling in on himself. Why? Why was this happening? Yami was finally here with him, yet memories of Roku's abuse floated to the surface of his mind when they were intimate? A tear slipped down his cheek. He never wanted to associate Yami's rough handling with Roku's ever again. A sob escaped his lips, and he trembled at both his realization and the cold air against his wet skin.

The curtain parted briefly, and a half-clothed Yami crawled onto the bed alongside him. Turning Yuugi so that he was on his back, Yami hovered over him, propping himself up on the palms of his hands. A warm, salty tear dripped onto his cheek, and Yuugi realized that it wasn't his own.

"I'm sorry, Love. I'm so sorry. So, so, so sorry," he repeated, laying down next to him and burying his face in the crook of his neck. He repeated those words until they both drifted off to sleep.

* * *

When Yami awoke, it was to a completely dark room. He frowned, pulling his partner's body closer to his own, subconsciously relieved at the even rise and fall of Yuugi's breathing. 'Good,' Yami thought, 'He's still asleep. Damn, what time is it?' He reached for the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his phone. The little digital clock on the screen read ten.

With a contented sigh, he laid his head back down on the pillow. Only ten. Wait. Yami's eyes snapped back open. He had arrived at the hotel at ten. That meant it was already morning!

Pulling away from his sleeping lover, who made a soft noise of discontent at the warmth leaving his back, Yami drew back the curtain and quickly slipped out, letting the purple drape fall back into place so as not to let the bright sunlight pouring into the room wake Yuugi. The four-poster bed's curtains were obviously thick enough to block out the sun from waking a person up, and they hadn't set an alarm the night before.

"Good thing the trial's in the afternoon," Yami said to himself, stretching his arms back behind him until his shoulders made loud popping noises. He then moved towards the little kitchenette in the room, starting a pot of coffee for himself. He glanced back at the bed. Yuugi didn't drink coffee. Well, room service could help him there. Picking up the phone next to the coffeemaker, Yami dialed the number quickly and waited.

"Hello. I'd like a pitcher of orange juice brought up to room two hundred and three, please. Oh, and two plain croissants," he spoke in English into the receiver, waiting until the woman on the line had confirmed his order before thanking her and hanging up.

The little light on the coffee brewer went off, and Yami immediately poured himself a cup. The strong aroma smelled heavenly, and he downed the entire cup greedily before pouring himself another.

The curtains shifted. "Yami, where are you?" Yuugi's little voice called quietly.

Yami walked back over to the bed and pulled the curtain aside, tying the one end up so he could sit on the edge of the mattress. A shaft of sunlight hit Yuugi's body, and Yami suddenly found himself very aware of the numerous bruises covering his boyfriend's skin. He quickly changed the frown beginning to form on his face into a soft smile. "Good morning, Yuugi. How are you feeling?"

"I'm good," Yuugi replied, rubbing at one of his eyes tiredly. He sat up, either unaware that he was still naked or just not caring. "How're you?"

"I'm good, too," Yami replied, leaning over to kiss him on the forehead.

Yuugi wrinkled his nose. "So, I see you found the coffeemaker."

Yami laughed, wondering to himself how a teenage boy could be so adorable and child-like. "I ordered you juice, so don't worry. And we'd better think about getting ready soon. It's ten o'clock right now, and the cars are coming for us at twelve."

"Oh," Yuugi replied quietly, looking away as a blush formed on his cheeks.

He wanted to ask what was wrong, but Yuugi didn't look like he needed an interrogation right then, so Yami stood back up. "I'll get the first shower, okay?"

"Okay," Yuugi replied, deeply lost in thought.

* * *

After Yami had gotten in the shower, Yuugi set about making himself semi-presentable for when room service came. He dug through his suitcase and managed to find a pair of dark blue sweatpants and a clean white t-shirt, all the while hearing his father's words echoing in his head.

How was he supposed to win if he lied? Roku had specifically told him to stick to the explanation he had provided for him. If he didn't, the punishment would be more severe than anything he had previously endured. But he couldn't be punished if he was with Yami's parents, right? Roku wouldn't think of coming after him if he was being protected by the Ahknemkhanen's, would he? The whole situation made Yuugi's head hurt. He wanted so desperately to tell the truth and be free at last, but the thought of what his father was capable of made his head spin. His father wouldn't have the guts to kill him, would he?

He began to pace the floor. Furthermore, what if it was revealed that he was lying? Would he be in trouble for defending the guilty party? One thing was for sure, Yami and his parents would hate him if he didn't tell the truth. They had gone through so much stress and dealt with so much trouble to help him, and he was seriously thinking about throwing all of their hard work away?

There was a knock at the door, and the voice of an elderly woman called out, "Room service!"

Yuugi hurried to open the door, and gave the graying server a grateful smile as he took the pitcher and the plate of croissants from her. "Thank you, ma'am."

"You're very welcome, sir," she replied, closing the door for him because his hands were full. "Have a wonderful day."

'Wonderful indeed,' Yuugi thought to himself as he carried the breakfast over to the little table by the kitchenette. He grabbed a cup from by the coffeemaker and poured himself a glass of the orange juice.

Yami stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and using another to dry off his hair. "I heard the door. Was that breakfast?" he asked.

"Yeah," Yuugi replied, taking a sip of the juice.

Yami walked over to him and leaned down to capture his lips with his own. With one hand on the back of Yuugi's head and the other on his hip to steady him, he kissed him with a gentleness that was surprising. Yuugi was glad for the supportive arm on his waist because his knees might have given out at that moment.

They looked into each other's eyes for a long moment. Then, Yami said, "I don't know what's bothering you, but I want you to know that I'm here for you no matter what."

That was when Yuugi decided that he would risk anything for the man holding him, and the consequences of telling the truth at the trial would be absolutely worth the reprucussions.

* * *

The courthouse wasn't very busy that afternoon. Since it was a private hearing, no one but the judge, the secretary in charge of taking down the minutes, the Mutous, and the Ahknemkhanens would be there for the day's proceedings.

Roku and Yuugi mounted the stairs of the courthouse together, looking like a father and son team as they both stared straight ahead with grim looks on their faces. Yuugi hated to be seen looking like his father. They were both wearing the same color tie; lavender was Roku's favorite color as well as Yuugi's. It was purely accidental, but Yuugi was horrified when he found out. To be seen in public dressed like his father in the same colors as well as a similar black suit was unacceptable to him. Any reminder that they shared blood was an unwelcome reminder that the man next to him was his only living relative.

Yuugi's thoughts occupied him like this until, before he knew it, they were entering the hearing room. The Ahknemkhanens were already there, seated together and dressed in their business best as well. Yami's crimson tie matched that of his fathers, and his mother was wearing a blouse of a similar shade. 'Great,' Yuugi thought, 'Now it really looks like I'm on his team.'

The judge nodded to them from his desk at the front of the room. "Good morning," he greeted, "Is this everyone?"

"Yes, your honor," Roku replied swiftly, pulling out a chair for Yuugi before sitting down in his own.

Yuugi could have laughed out loud at his father's front. Instead, he took the seat and settled for shooting Yami a "can you believe this guy?" look. Yami winked back at him subtly.

"Then let us begin. Mr. Ahknemkhanen, please present your case."

Mr. Ahknemkhanen opened a file folder and began to read. "It was called to our attention recently by our son Atem Ahknemkhanen that a Roku Mutou had been inflicting severe physical punishment on one Yuugi Mutou, his son. The trouble really began last year when Roku Mutou first came to Japan to live with Sugoroku and Yuugi Mutou. After the death of Sugoroku, who was Yuugi's primary caregiver, we began to fill out custody papers for Yuugi Mutou's care to be transferred to us. However, Roku Mutou intervened, claiming to be Yuugi Mutou's only living relative and, therefore, next in line for guardianship. Roku Mutou rightfully took his son to live with him in England. When our son went to check up on Yuugi and see how he was faring, it became clear that he had been a victim to some severe abuse. We, the Ahknemkhanens, are now suing Mr. Mutou for custody of Yuugi Mutou on the grounds that Roku Mutou is an unfit parent."

The judge motioned towards Roku. "And now you, Mr. Mutou?"

Roku stood. "Your Honor, I believe my son could tell it better than anyone, but I have never harmed him physically, emotionally, or otherwise. He has been doing it himself and covering it up by claiming to be a victim of child abuse. His charade is merely a cry for attention, nothing more, and I am certainly not an unfit parent. I have provided for my son everything he could ever want or need."

"You may sit, Mr. Mutou," the judge stated with a dismissing wave of his hand. "I don't believe this case will necessarily need to go to trial, do you, gentlemen?" he asked, "No, I rather think it won't. I'm confident that we will be able to wrap this up today quite promptly. Mr. Ahknemkhanen, do you have any evidence to support your claims?"

"Yes, I do, Your Honor," Mr. Ahknemkhanen replied, "Not only are the bruises Yuugi sustained most often in places where he couldn't possibly inflict the damage himself, but I have several eyewitnesses as well, if it comes to that."

Roku's eyes narrowed. "Eyewitnesses?" he demanded, glaring at Mr. Ahknemkhanen, "Nonsense."

"It is true, Your Honor," Mrs. Ahknemkhanen spoke up, "Atem has personally spoken to a member of Roku Mutou's staff that had many times been a witness to the violence."

"I see." The judge made a note of something on a piece of paper in front of him. He then turned to look at Yuugi. "Son, is there anything you would like to say?"

Yuugi blinked, staring at the judge like a deer caught in the headlights. He hadn't been able to follow the conversation thus far very well because he'd never gotten good grades in English class, and everyone was talking way too fast for him. Everyone in the room stared at him as he floundered for something to say. "I'm sorry," he finally began slowly, "I'm not very good at English."

"I will translate for you," the secretary said in rough Japanese with a nod of her head.

"Oh, thank you," Yuugi said, glad that he wouldn't have to give his account in English. With a fearful glance towards his father, whose schooled expression revealed nothing, he began. "I would just like to say that the Ahknemkhanens account of the story is the correct one, sir." He gulped, looking straight at the table in front of him as he spoke. The secretary mumbled the translation in English quietly to the judge. "My father has beaten me more times than I can count, and many nights I wasn't able to sleep due to the pain. There are witnesses to this. I don't know if Mr. Ahknemkhanen included that in his report or not, but the witnesses are the only friends I had in my father's house: his staff. They were the ones who comforted me through those nights." He almost breathed a sigh of relief when he finished saying his piece. Thank whatever gods were smiling on him that he didn't do anything stupid like stutter or burst into tears.

"Thank you, Yuugi." The judge made another note on his paper. "Mr. and Mrs. Ahknemkhanen, do you have these eyewitnesses on hand, by any chance?"

"We do, Your Honor," Mrs. Ahknemkhanen replied, lip curling up into a sort of devious smile, "They are currently lodged in the same hotel as us about fifteen minutes away from here."

"Excellent. Why don't we take a short break in which you will call your witnesses here?" the judge suggested good-naturedly, "Please be ready to begin again in half an hour."

Everyone checked their watches and stood up. The judge reached down behind the table and grabbed a brown paper bag. He smiled sheepishly, pulling out a sandwich. "It's been a busy day, ladies and gentlemen. If you'll excuse me."

As the judge went about eating his lunch, Yami appeared at Yuugi's side and took his hand. "Why don't we go outside for a little fresh air?" he suggested.

Yuugi could have kissed him. He didn't even want to look at his father, let alone be trapped with him for half an hour. Certainly not after what he had just said. So it was with relief and admiration in his eyes that he followed Yami out of the room.

The Ahknemkhanens remained where they were sitting; Mrs. Ahknemkhanen was already on her phone with the hotel. Her husband was reviewing his notes.

Roku strode purposefully out of the room, already dialing numbers on his cell phone. "Maike? It's me. We have a bit of a problem," he announced into the phone, turning down an empty hallway so no one would overhear his conversation. "They're winning. My staff has turned against me, and those damned people are winning!"

"Please relax, sir. Just stick to your story. Theirs is bound to have holes if it's a lie," Roku's lawyer replied.

"Yes, I know, but you don't understand, Maike. They have my staff on their side!"

Maike seemed puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Roku made a noise of frustration low in his throat. "I counted on those rotten people to be loyal to me, and they've all turned traitor for one kid! That blasted Atem kid somehow convinced them that I'm a child abuser!"

"Well, sir," Maike replied with an edge to his tone, "Why do you think they'd believe a thing like that? I know your staff well enough, I think, and I am also acquainted with your son. A kinder, gentler group of people you'd never find. And they are all making these accusations against you. Why is that? Yuugi never seemed to be the type to harm anyone, let alone himself. Mr. Mutou, please do not tell me that your story is a lie and that you are trying to hoodwink one of the best judges America has to offer, not to mention me."

Roku was silent. His mouth was slightly open. "You… You dare talk that way to me, Maike?"

"Yes. Yes I do. You know, I had my doubts about you, Mutou," Maike stated, his tone positively icy now, "Your initial report had basically no evidence to back it up, and your track record of relationships hasn't been that stellar, either. You're trying to ruin the life of one of the happiest people I've had the pleasure of being acquainted with, and I refuse to take part any longer. Good day, Mr. Mutou."

And with that, Maike hung up, leaving Roku standing alone in a dark hallway, grasping for an explanation as to why everything was going so wrong for him.

He soon found the answer. Yuugi.

* * *

Once everyone was assembled back in the hearing room, the judge put away his lunch, wiped the crumbs out of his gray moustache, and met the gazes of everyone in the room before beginning. "Welcome back. Let's start with the testimonies of the staff members, shall we?"

A large, African man in a gray jacket and tan slacks stood up. He began to speak slowly and clearly, something Yuugi was grateful for. "Sir, I am Roku Mutou's head butler. My name is Alastor Lovelace. It shames me to say that I knew about the goings-on between Mr. Mutou and his son because I did nary a thing to put a stop to it. If you'll consider it, sir, none of us wanted to lose our jobs with this economy. Yuugi Mutou is a special kid, Your Honor. I realize now that I do not care what becomes of my job. All I ask is that you hear the truth." And, with that, he sat back down.

Yuugi's heart swelled. Alastor was always so kind to him. During the times when he had problems using the stairs from bruises around his knees, Alastor would always carry him where he needed to go. Aside from that, the man was positively massive and frightening-looking, but he had a gentle soul. When he could, Yuugi would always make little desserts for him with the help of the cooks in the kitchens.

"Thank you, Mr. Lovelace," the judge said, beckoning for the second staff member to stand up. "If you will, Miss."

"Yes, Your Honor." She was an aging woman with colored blonde hair, a pinched face, and a heavy French accent. She, too, spoke slowly for Yuugi's sake. "I am a chef at the Mutou house, and my name is Margaretta DeLoc. I've worked for Mr. Mutou many years now. He was always a very stern man, but he was a good enough boss if one had tough enough skin. However, when Yuugi arrived at the mansion, I knew the poor boy wouldn't last. He is soft, sir, and unfailingly kind and polite. Roku Mutou not only abused him. Oh, no. He trampled his spirit, as well. Whenever Yuugi came down to the kitchens in those first few days after his arrival, he was full of excitement and wonder. Then the abuse began." She paused and pulled a lacy handkerchief out of her pocket to dab at her eyes dramatically, which were beginning to tear up. "He was losing his light, and innocence is a precious thing to lose. I would know." It became obvious that she couldn't say more without bursting into tears, so she took her seat once more.

"Thank you very much, ma'am." The judge sighed as he penned down another note. "I'm sorry, Mr. Mutou, but this evidence is rather heavily against you. Have you anything to say?" he asked.

"Why, yes, Your Honor. I do, in fact, have something to say," Roku said with a sneer. He was about to continue, but the judge raised his hand.

"Forgive me, but I need to add one more thing," the judge interrupted, raising a hand to silence Roku, "I received a call during the break from a lovely gentleman named Maike Heartwerth, Mr. Mutou, and do you know what he said to me? He revealed to me that it has come to light that your claims are baseless. When even your own lawyer does not back you up, Mr. Roku Mutou, what could you possibly have to say?"

* * *

'My mind must be tricking me,' Yuugi decided. He didn't know how else he could be entirely free of his worries and sitting inside a rather greasy fast food restaurant named Kentucky something or other with the love of his life, who was currently ripping apart a piece of fried chicken like he hadn't eaten all day. Across from them at the table was said love's parents, each picking at their chicken with a mix of interest and disgust on their faces. The paperwork had been mostly filed after the hearing had ended, and in less than a week, he would officially be under the legal guardianship of the Ahknemkhanens. 'What a life I have,' Yuugi thought with a quiet chuckle as he jabbed at his own food. Still, he was beyond happy.

In the end, Alastor had produced a video tape from inside his jacket pocket as the final piece of evidence. Realizing what it was almost immediately, Yuugi excused himself from the room while the rest of them watched it. The tape was a surveillance video from inside Roku's home office. Yuugi had been in there listening to music on his father's computer when Roku came barreling in. There was no audio to the tape, but everyone watching could see that Roku was swearing colorfully. That was when Roku grabbed Yuugi by his hair and began shaking him like a ragdoll. Yami's face had drained of all its color. So had Roku's, but his did for an entirely different reason.

After the video was over, Roku confessed to the charges and proposed a settlement. Yami had been unhappy, but they had eventually agreed on 350,000 Euros, which was 45 million yen or around 500,000 U.S. dollars. The money was to be set aside in an account for Yuugi, but he wouldn't be allowed to touch any of it until he turned eighteen. That was also the age that the Ahknemkhanen's custody of him would expire, as well.

Wait.

"Yami," Yuugi said urgently and apparently loudly because it startled everyone at the table.

Yami paused with a drumstick halfway to his mouth. "Yes?"

"Am I your brother now?" he asked, eyes going wide at his realization.

"Oh. Oh, hell." Yami mirrored his "brother's" look. "Oh, damn. We're incest now, aren't we?"

Mrs. Ahknemkhanen laughed. Actually laughed! Yuugi couldn't remember correctly if he'd ever heard her make a noise like that before, and cackling maniacally didn't count. "Oh, boys," she said mirthfully.

Mr. Ahknemkhanen failed to find the humor in the situation. "No, Yuugi. Since we are merely your legal guardians and not your adoptive parents, you two are not brothers."

A part of him was relieved. He hadn't been sure what being taken in by the Ahknemkhanens would do to his relationship with Yami. But Yuugi's face still fell a little. A very small part of him had been hoping that he would get to call these people his parents. He'd never known loving parents, and though Yami's parents weren't exactly loving, they were a far cry from his actual father. Plus, he'd never known his mother. Someone once told him that the reason he was so childish now was because he never knew a mother's love. It didn't make much sense to him, but it was the only explanation he had.

Mrs. Ahknemkhanen must have seen some hint of his thoughts cross his face, because she reached across the table and put her hand over his. Yami and his father both raised their eyebrows at the gesture, but she ignored them. "You can still call us mother and father if you'd like," she told him gently.

A sunny smile lit up Yuugi's face, and he felt himself tearing up as he replied. "I'd love to."

* * *

**In Japan**

A week had passed by in a blur, and, before he knew it, Yuugi had completely moved into both the Ahknemkhanen's mansion and their lives. The servants were more than happy to set the table for four at meals, especially because Yuugi helped with a lot of the cooking; he was becoming quite an accomplished chef. The only thing he didn't have at the Ahknemkhanen's that he used to have at both his grandfather's and his father's was his own room. That wasn't a problem, however. He shared a room, not to mention a bed, with Yami.

Yuugi hadn't had time to back to school because summer vacation had only been a few days away when they had all returned to Japan. He and Yami both had mountains of work to do; Yuugi because he missed a lot of school and Yami because he was a workaholic. They helped each other, though, so they managed just fine.

Yuugi was just up in their room laying on the floor working on a problem set for his math class when Yami walked in, looking unusually nervous.

"Yami?" the little teen asked, setting down his pencil, "What's wrong?"

"There's something I have to tell you, Love," Yami said. He walked over to sit down on the bed, beckoning Yuugi to join him.

"What is it?" Yuugi asked, putting his hand on his boyfriend's knee in a comforting gesture.

Yami took a deep breath. "You know how much I love you, right?" he asked, taking Yuugi's hand in his.

"Yeah," Yuugi replied, "And you know that I love you just as much, don't you?"

Yami nodded. He leaned down and kissed his boyfriend's lips gently. Without pulling back, he continued to talk, their lips brushing occasionally as he spoke. "I don't think you do know how much I love you. I love you so much that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Yuugi."

That's when Yami reached into the pocket of his sweatshirt and pulled out a tiny, black box. Yuugi swore he nearly stopped breathing at that moment. It was actually happening. Yami was actually proposing. He had dreamed about this moment practically since their first date, and now it was finally happening.

By the worried expression on Yami's face, Yuugi realized he must have been lost in his thoughts for too long. "Oh, Yami, of course I'll marry you!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms around Yami's neck and dragging him down onto the bed with him.

* * *

**A/N:**

**ATTENTION ATTENTION LOOK AT ME I AM IMPORTANT! **So, I'm sure all of you nerds are aware that Pokémon Black and White came out a little while ago. Well, I got it, and I'm in need of some people to wifi battle with! So, if you're interested, leave your friend code in your review or PM it to me, and I'll send you mine!


	12. Their Happy Ending part three

**A/N:**

And, by popular demand, there is a Marik/Malik finale!

* * *

Malik sat at the large, polished bench of the church's organ, playing for all he was worth. His hands came down on the keys so hard he felt as if his fingers would break, and his feet moved quickly to press the low-toned keys on the floor. The large sanctuary hummed and vibrated with the intricate melodies and countermelodies of the piece the blond was pouring his very heart and soul into. This was more than an organ recital at the end of his study abroad with Herr Heidrich, the virtuoso who had taken him in. No, this was a song he had selected by himself for himself. It was a piece full of powerful chords and a running melody line that Malik imagined almost perfectly matched his own personality. His muscles protested to the strain of the twenty minute piece, but he kept on as if he didn't feel the sharp twinges. This was his moment, what he had trained all year for, and he'd be damned if he let minor discomfort get in the way. He'd never played it through from start to finish without stopping before; it was so physically taxing to keep up the momentum and vigor that the song demanded that Malik never attempted it for fear of not doing it justice. At that moment, though, the adrenaline and sheer determination pushed him through to the end. Sweat ran down his forehead as he hit the climax of the song, shutting his eyes briefly as he let the music decrescendo into a heartbreakingly beautiful finish.

The crowd of at least three hundred that had packed the church jumped to its feet, cheering loudly with tears in their eyes for Malik's performance. Many called things to him in German, but he didn't understand what they were saying. It was unmistakable, however, that they all had loved it. Many had tears in their eyes as they applauded him.

Malik slid off of the bench and bowed humbly, accepting his applause with grace. His knees wobbled like they were made of jelly, and he wished he was back in his room on his bed. Better yet, he wished he was back at his house in Japan; he missed his sister badly.

Shaking off his thoughts, he smiled at the crowd before taking his sheet music from the organ and walking down the aisle towards the church's foyer to greet his audience on their way out. There he was joined by Herr Heidrich, who gave him a fierce hug and told him he was never prouder of a student.

Malik thanked everyone gratefully, moved by his teacher's statement and the audience's compliments for him. He was almost unable to believe that he was actually there in that moment. All of his hard work the entire year long had finally paid off for him. He finally had what he always wanted: fame. And with that fame would come a way to support his sister back at home. He was positively beaming at his thoughts, practically giddy with happiness. Everything had finally worked out.

"Ah, Malik, here comes Alex!" Heidrich informed him, a smile plastered on his face. He switched to German when Malik's roommate grew closer. "How do you do, Alex?"

"Fine, thank you," Alex replied politely, turning to Malik and addressing him in English, "Malik, your playing was fantastic!"

"T-thank you, Alex," Malik replied, taken aback. He couldn't read any kind of hidden emotion on Alex's face; the teen really appeared to be simply happy for his roommate, in spite of the fact that they had been avoiding each other for weeks.

"No, thank you!" Alex replied with a laugh, "I will wait for you outside, yes? We will go get food?"

"Ahh, sure," Malik agreed suspiciously, but he didn't get any more time to dwell on it as Alex was swept away out the doors by the crowd of people.

Malik continued to shake hands with people with a star-struck look on his face. People were actually asking for his business card! As if he really had one! Instead, he gave them his e-mail and address with a promise that he would get cards made soon.

He was still flushed with excitement as he descended the stairs to meet Alex, who was waiting on the corner of the street for him. He heard the taller man inform him that he knew a place with good sandwiches, but his head was still in the clouds. Practically skipping down the sidewalk, Malik pulled out his phone to send Marik a text message about how well his concert went.

The sound of the shop door jingling as they walked inside brought him back to reality. The pair was quickly seated at a table next to the shop's front window as a waitress left with the order that Alex had given in quick German.

"Malik, I am very glad to be talking with you," Alex began in drawn-out, thoughtful English, clasping his hands together and resting them on the table, "I need to give you my apologies."

Malik quirked a delicate eyebrow. "You do? You really mean that?" He didn't believe it. Alex had an enormous ego, so he never apologized for anything.

"Yes. I apologize not for our night at the party," he clarified, "But for believing that it gave me claim to you. It was wrong of me to assume such a thing."

"O-oh," Malik stuttered, taken aback; that was almost human of Alex. He smiled in spite of the situation. "You really mean that?"

"Of course I really mean it," Alex assured him, looking sheepish, "We will still keep in touch after you leave, yes?"

Malik thought it over briefly. Things were alright again with Marik, who didn't blame him at all for having sex with Alex. And besides, Marik had done pretty much the same thing. There really was no good reason why he shouldn't be Alex's friend again. With that thought in mind, he gave the German teen a smile. "Of course we will."

* * *

Marik surveyed his dorm room with a critical eye, not wanting to leave any of his belongings behind. All of the electronics that he had brought over like his television, game console, and laptop had been packed away as well as all of his clothing, football gear, bedding, and books. The large, heavy bags of luggage were currently being taken out of the dormitory and loaded into his car by a couple of attendants. Satisfied finally that he had all of his possessions, he picked up his keys and headed out of the building. The warm air brushed against his exposed arms, making him shiver a little at the pleasant sensation. It was the first day in a while that had been warm enough for a t-shirt and shorts, and he couldn't even enjoy it because was leaving.

Marik waved goodbye to all of the friends he had made as he passed them on his way to the football stadium that had made his name known over the past year. He allowed himself a small smile as he recalled how he almost blew his chances for what he was headed toward today.

After he had flown back to college from Germany, he was in deep shit with the football coach. Apparently ditching the first day of practice to fly internationally and beat the tar out of someone for sleeping with your lover was frowned upon at Atkins University. Because of it, he had lost his starting spot on the team and was benched for the first few games. The coach's disappointment in him was nothing compared to how disappointed he was in himself. So he resolved to earn his starting position back, and he worked himself over every day at practice. Even when there wasn't practice, if you wanted to find Marik Tokoshie, you went to the stadium. By the middle of the season, he was back as the quarterback for the team, and he led them all the way to the state championships where they lost in double overtime. He had gone from bearing the brunt of everyone's anger to being asked for autographs in the hallways in the span of one season. The coach had faith in him again, and he earned back his team's reliance and respect. Plus, because of all that training, he was stronger than he had ever been before in his life.

Marik allowed his thoughts to stroke his ego all the way to the entrance to the stadium where a group of men in suits were talking with the football coach. As he approached them, he took his hands out of his pockets. "Pleased to meet you all," he greeted, turning on all of the rich boy charm he had learned growing up, "I'm Marik Tokoshie. So sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen."

The coach looked stunned, obviously never hearing anything so refined come out of his charge's mouth before. "You're actually early, Marik."

"Even so," came his smooth reply.

"Ever so pleased to become acquainted with you, Mr. Tokoshie," one of the men said, "I'm Dan Philips, and these are my colleagues. We represent the National Football League. I'm sure you've heard of us."

"Of course I have," Marik assured him, "And what can I do for you?"

"Well, to cut to the chase," the representative continued, "We've been here intermittently over the past year, sitting in on a few of your games and practices, and we like what we see in you very much." He grinned wolfishly. "So make sure you keep up the good work, and we'll ensure a spot for you on the draft in a few years. Sound like something you'd be interested in, Mr. Tokoshie?"

Marik matched his expression, causing the other representatives' eyes to widen a little in shock. "Now you're speaking my language."

* * *

Malik flipped a page of his paperback romance novel, a bored yet annoyed look on his face. He had almost forgotten how much he hated flying. The plane was large but packed with people, and Malik really had gotten all the luck when it came to seats. He was sitting next to the window, so that was a plus, but on his other side was a girl who couldn't have been a day over twenty talking very loudly in German on her cell phone. She was nearly shouting into the phone to ensure that she would be heard over the high pitched screams coming from the two babies in her arms. If that wasn't bad enough, there had already been a fight in which two very drunk European men had to have their seats switched so that they were on opposite ends of the plane. What had their fight been about? Which one of them would get to order the blond a drink. Malik was still underage in his home country, so he hadn't been allowed to order his own tumbler of brandy. A quick, longing glance tossed at the two men, however, had resulted in a fight over who would order him his brandy. In the end, Malik received two glasses and then men had received a sound tongue-lashing from the flight attendant. The alcohol had dulled his headache from the screaming children somewhat, but he was still finding it very hard to concentrate on his book.

A quick glance at his phone told him they would, thankfully, be touching down in China shortly. It was finally his last layover before the flight that would take him directly to Japan. He had been travelling for nearly twelve hours, and all he wanted to do right now was to get into that Chinese airport and never see this horrible teen mom and her annoying brats again. He had half a mind to ask those obnoxious, flirty Europeans for more brandy, but it was hard enough finding his connecting flight sober, so he decided against it.

As the ground came closer and closer, Malik could feel his excitement to be home grow and grow. He would love seeing his sister again and telling her all about his year abroad. He was especially excited to see what her reaction would be when he showed her the massive chunk of profits from his concert that he kept.

Malik felt the gentle bump of the plane's tires on the runway, and he put his book back in his carry-on bag. As he left the plane, he waved goodbye to teen mom and the drunk Europeans with a sunny grin on his face. He was fatigued and stressed out to such an extent that the only thing left to do was to smile and put his body on autopilot.

The airport was impossibly crowded with people. There was literally no elbow room to speak of. Malik put his bag up on his shoulder and pushed his way through the crowds towards an empty looking shop that looked like it sold smoothies. He marched up to the counter and pulled out his wallet, ordering one of the drinks via hand signals. Then, once the friendly but very unhelpful cashier used hand signals to communicate how much the smoothie had cost and Malik had paid accordingly, the blond sat down in one of the little café chairs and put his bag on the table. The smoothie was good, and his connecting flight wasn't for another hour.

Or so he thought.

An announcement began to broadcast over the loudspeakers in the airport, first in Chinese and then in Japanese. Malik's eyes widened, and he nearly choked on his smoothie. He double checked the ticket in his pocket. His flight was boarding now, and the gate was halfway across the terminal! Even if he sprinted, he would never make it with these crowd. Even so, he shouldered his bag and dashed headlong into the crowds, calling out apologies as he crashed into people left and right.

The terminal was enormous, so they had monorails running overhead to ensure that people got to flights on time. Malik thanked his lucky stars and quickly got in line to board one. As soon as he stepped on it, however, he was hit with a sinking feeling. There was no guarantee that this train would be headed in the direction of his plane. His fears were confirmed as the train went speeding along in the wrong direction. Malik wanted to call out a frantic "stop!", but he knew they couldn't stop the train until it arrived at its destination. The blond sunk down into a seat, willing himself not to cry. He would just have to get to someone in charge and get them to sell him a new ticket. His eyes began to tear up as he realized he would have to spend the concert money he had kept for his sister.

When the train stopped, he stepped out, walked to a mostly deserted section of the wing, and sat down on the ground. He realized after a few seconds of looking around that this was the section of the terminal reserved for private jets and therefore wouldn't have anyone nearby selling tickets. That thought, combined with fatigue, extreme stress, and the realization that he had dropped his smoothie somewhere, pushed him past his breaking point. He buried his head in his hands and sobbed.

* * *

"Malik?"

The name left Marik's lips before he could analyze the scene in front of him. He had just stepped off of his family's jet to wait for it to refuel before making the rest of the flight to Japan. The teen thought that maybe he'd go get a smoothie or something while he had time. He hadn't even gone ten feet before his eyes locked on a pretty little blond thing sobbing into his hands in the middle of the floor. It couldn't have been Malik, even though he knew Malik was to be travelling that day as well, because his boyfriend's flight was boarding at that very moment.

Still, at the sound of his voice, the blond looked up at him with wide eyes. His lips curved up into a smile even though he was still crying.

Marik sprinted over, dropping down on his knees next to him. "Malik, what are you doing here?" he asked with concern, gathering the teen up in his arms. Malik's head dropped to his shoulder, and Marik realized how tired the blond looked.

"Oh, you know," came his quiet, muffled reply, "Just having a break down in the middle of an airport in China because I thought I would have to wait here for God knows how long until I got another ticket to Japan."

Marik pressed a kiss to Malik's forehead. "You missed your flight?"

"Obviously."

Marik could tell by his tone that his boyfriend was rolling his eyes, but the younger teen had his face buried in the elder's jacket collar. "Well," he said, standing up with Malik still in his arms, "Do you want to grab a smoothie while we wait for the jet to fuel up?"

* * *

Hours later, as the Tokoshie family jet was flying over the Sea of Japan, Malik and Marik sat on a comfortable loveseat, curled up together. Malik had just finished relating to Marik the stories of his flights so far.

"And then, I swear to God, she just glared at her baby and clicked her fingers at it like it was a dog or something!" Malik said with a laugh, "Can you even believe that?"

Marik laughed along with him, pulling Malik up to straddle him. "Hey, my turn to tell a story," he announced, looking immensely pleased with himself.

"Alright, hotshot," Malik agreed, giving him a quick kiss, "Your turn."

"So, on my last day on campus, my coach called my cell and told me to meet him down at the stadium because there were some people there to see me," he began. His grin widened as he continued, "They were from the NFL, Malik. Once I finish college, maybe even sooner, I'm going to be given a spot on the draft!"

Malik's jaw dropped. "Holy shit," he remarked breathlessly, "Not that I'm surprised that people think you're great, Marik, but so soon? Wow." He leaned forward, kissing the other teen slow and sensually. He dragged he teeth lightly on Marik's bottom lip, causing him to shudder and open his mouth obediently. Their tongues tangled hotly, the deliberate slowness of their actions making them both shudder involuntarily. Malik pulled away, but a thin strand of spit kept them connected. "Congratulations," he whispered.

"Share it with me," Marik demanded in the same hushed tone. When Malik only cocked his head slightly, he continued. "Share that life with me. Come live in America with me. I'll buy us a big house down there, and I'll introduce you to people so you don't get lonely when I'm at practice. Come cheer me on, Malik. You're my inspiration."

Malik let his eyelids fall shut, seemingly lost in the beautiful images his mind had conjured up. "Anything, Marik. Anything for you."

* * *

**A/N:**

Up next: the epilogue and my tearful goodbye to you, my wonderful SFLS fans!


	13. They Officially Lived Happily Ever After

**You are cordially invited to celebrate the union of Mr. Ryou Bakura and Mr. Bakura Necrophades at one o'clock on the fifth of June in the year two thousand eleven at the Necrophades Manor in the Ryukyu Islands. **

* * *

Ryou gazed out at the sea from the balcony adjoined to his room in the Necrophades' estate, watching a flock of seagulls fly over the perfectly blue water. He wished he could be that carefree. With a sigh, he turned and walked into his room and over to his bed for the thousandth time that day, running his fingers carefully over the white tuxedo that had been laid out for him. The material felt soft and smooth against his fingertips, and he immediately started to imagine walking down the aisle towards Bakura in it. He took a large breath of air to calm his nerves; it didn't help, not that it ever did, but it always brought on a feeling of gratitude that he could breathe like that at all.

He walked out onto the marble balcony again, placing his hands on the railing and leaning out. The room was close enough to the ocean that he could just barely feel the spray from the ocean against his face. A sudden gust of wind threatened to blow the large-brimmed sunhat off of his head, but he placed a hand on top of it just in time. The wind whipped at his long, baggy, white pants, making them billow out. Ryou chuckled a little at himself. Coupled with the pants, he had on a long sleeved, skintight, white shirt and a pair of wooden sandals that he found at the bottom of his closet. They looked kind of traditional as far as footwear went, but they were better than the cloth ones he had brought along. The long clothes were because, even though it was nearly eighty degrees Fahrenheit on the island, he was always cold nowadays. Apparently, cancer does that to a person. He still had the beanie that Mr. Necrophades had given him; it had come in handy more times than Ryou could count. Plus, it wouldn't do to get sun burned on his wedding day.

A glance at the alarm clock on his bedside table told him it was twelve thirty. Great. Yuugi and Malik would be there any minute to help him get ready for the ceremony. Ryou let out a small moan. It wasn't that he didn't want to marry Bakura; he loved the man! No, he had just woken up feeling very off, and while he had improved marginally since then, he still didn't want to pass out in front of all of their guests.

The guests! Ryou let himself collapse on the bed next to his tuxedo, moaning again. Since the Necrophades were very politically involved, there had been at least one hundred influential people invited that would be scrutinizing the couple all day. In spite of Ryou and Bakura's lobbying for a more private ceremony, Bakura's father insisted that it was necessary for their company's image to keep the ceremony as public as possible, though he didn't want that much public eye on the wedding, either. Ryou had gotten the option to invite fifty people of his own choosing, but he only ended up inviting his parents, Yuugi, Malik, Anzu, Miho, Honda, Otogi, and Jounouchi. The rest of the invitations had gone to either Bakura's friends or political affiliates of the Necrophades family.

Suddenly, Malik barged into the room with Yuugi hot on his heels, making Ryou jump up at their abrupt entrance. He was brandishing a straightening iron and a brush while Yuugi was carrying something that looked suspiciously like a make-up bag, and they were both already wearing their black tuxedos for the wedding. "Hey, Ryou!" Malik greeted, not knowing that he had just scared the hell out of his friend, "Ready to get all fixed up?"

"What's wrong with the way I look now?" Ryou asked defensively, moving to look in the set of three full length mirrors that had been set up in his room.

Malik wrinkled his nose, moving to stand behind Ryou. "Your hair is an absolute mess and you look paler than normal. Are you feeling alright?" he asked, laying the back of his palm against Ryou's forehead.

"Not really, but what can I do?" he asked, closing his eyes slowly as Malik began to run the brush through his hair to get the tangles out.

"That's true, I guess," Yuugi piped up, eyeing the white tuxedo warily. His eyes flicked to Ryou skeptically before going back to the garment. "Uhm, Malik, I'm no expert, but won't this completely wash him out? I mean, Ryou's pale to start with, but this…"

Malik, turned back to look at the tux. "Gods, you're right. Good thing I brought my bag."

"Don't paint my face with that goopy, tan stuff," Ryou pleaded, imagining himself with orange skin and shuddering.

Malik laughed. "I don't have your shade, dear Ryou, and fake bake is completely out. No, I'll just give you a little color on your cheeks. It'll be fine."

He plugged his straightening iron into the wall, and while he waited for it to heat up, he took the bag from Yuugi and began pawing through it. "I think I'll use a light pink blush for your cheekbones and a light beige for the apples of your cheeks," he said to himself, biting on the tip of his tongue. His fingers closed around the two shades of blush, and he picked out the beige one.

Ryou raised one of his eyebrows. "Blush is for girls," he stated simply. He was purposely trying to get under his friend's skin, but he needed an outlet for his nervous tension.

Malik, however, wouldn't rise to the bait. "Quite frankly, I'm insulted," he retorted in a bored voice, as if he was only humoring Ryou by saying it, "Now sit." He shoved Ryou onto the bed and began to apply the color to his face.

"Malik, I want to be useful," Yuugi said, walking over to his two friends, "What can I do?"

"You could go get the boutonniere out of the mini-fridge," Malik suggested, but he shook his head a second later, "No, never mind. Not until we get him in the tuxedo. Well, no, get the flowers, Yuugi, then you can get the tux ready."

As Yuugi scrambled to do what Malik said, Ryou looked up at his friend with a calculating stare. "Okay, now you can give it to me straight. How bad do I look?"

"Really, Ryou," Malik replied, replacing his blushes and pulling out an eyelash curler and mascara, "You really don't look bad at all. You just need a little polishing so that you don't look washed out in the pictures."

"If you say so," he conceded, admitting to himself that Malik probably would make him look amazing for his wedding without actually trying.

"I'm back!" Yuugi called, setting the flowers down next to the tuxedo. "Hey, I can do mascara, so why don't you get started on his hair?"

In another twenty minutes, Ryou couldn't believe how much better he looked. The make-up had given his face a sort of natural glow that didn't make him look any more feminine than he already did, and his previously unruly hair was pin straight and fell just to his shoulders. Malik had pinned his bangs back with bobby pins so that the white locks wouldn't shift too much. And, though he still looked unnaturally white with his hair, skin, and tuxedo combined, there was a crimson cummerbund and bowtie hidden in the bundle that gave his ensemble a burst of rich color. He gave his reflection a flirtatious glance. He thought he looked pretty good.

Apparently, so did Malik and Yuugi, if the tears were anything to go by.

"Oh, Ry," Malik practically cooed, "You look stunning." He looked as if he wanted to give him a big hug but didn't want to risk messing up his carefully put together creation.

"Absolutely amazing," Yuugi agreed, eyes sparkling with moisture.

"Ahh, you guys." Ryou rubbed at the back of his neck bashfully. "You're supposed to cry at the ceremony, not before."

"I can't help it." Yuugi took him by the hand. "I'm just so grateful that we're here and this is happening, Ryou. You deserve all the happiness in the world after what you went through. I mean, could you have even imagined at the beginning of our freshmen year that we would go through so much and yet still be here right now, happier than we've ever been in our lives?" he asked.

Ryou smiled and mentally cursed Yuugi as he felt his eyes begin to water. "Not at all. If anyone had told me I'd be marrying hotshot Bakura Necrophades at the beginning of freshmen year, I'd have told them to stop drinking laundry detergent," he told them with a laugh, "And yet, here I am."

"Stop it, guys" Malik said in what was meant to be a reprimanding tone, "I worked forever on both of your faces. Don't cry all of my hard work off."

"Oh, Malik, do you remember our first football game," Ryou continued nostalgically, "When Marik swung you across the fence after he scored the winning touchdown and frenched you in front of the entire student body?"

"Of course I do," Malik replied with a grin, salty tears running down his cheeks, "But do you remember how ridiculous Yuugi's outfit was that night?"

"I liked that outfit!" Yuugi exclaimed, trying to sound indignant but failing as he let out a peal of laughter.

"Yeah, okay, Bondage Queen," was Malik's reply.

"Yami apparently liked it, if Yuugi's text messages to us that following morning were anything to go by," Ryou added with a devilish grin.

"We need to go to more of those next year," Yuugi declared, "Can you believe we'll be juniors next year?"

"Upperclassmen," Ryou added with a smile, "Is it stupid that I'm really excited to mess with the freshmen?"

Malik frowned. "Um, guys? I've actually got something to tell you." He took a deep breath as Ryou and Yuugi waited, smiles fading from their faces. "I'm moving to America with Marik next year."

The silence was thick and heavy. Then, "No you aren't."

Yuugi and Malik looked to Ryou in surprise. "What?" Malik asked in astonishment.

"You aren't leaving us again," Ryou insisted with a determined smile, "We're finally all together again, and I'm not letting you go. If Marik doesn't like it, well, I'll just have to have a talk with him, won't I?"

Malik's smile matched Ryou's. "Well, if you really feel that way, Bakura."

They all dissolved into helpless laughter that ended with Malik having to touch up everyone's make-up.

"Should I go get Ryou's dad?" Yuugi asked Malik once they were all presentable again.

"Hang on, Yuugi," Malik said, digging around in his pockets for something. He produced from it a light blue handkerchief and handed it to his friend. "There."

"Oh!" Yuugi exclaimed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handful of what looked like colored string. "I nearly forgot."

Ryou took the items with a puzzled look. "I'm sorry. What's all this?"

Malik poked his chest. "Silly Ryou, haven't you ever heard of having something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue on your wedding day?"

"The handkerchief is the blue, and that bracelet I gave you is a bracelet I made as a little kid! That makes it something old and something borrowed," Yuugi explained.

"Right," Malik continued for him, "And I bought that at a store around a week ago, so that makes it new."

"Thanks, guys," Ryou said, putting the kerchief in his pocket and tying the bracelet around his wrist, "I'm gonna need all the luck I can get today."

After Malik and Yuugi had left Ryou with their good luck wishes as they went to go join the rest of the wedding party, Ryou's father showed up in the room.

"Ready to go, Ryou?" he asked, offering his arm to his son.

Ryou slipped his arm through his father's and let him lead him through the house and out into the yard. Not too far away, right at the edge of the water, was the wedding party. Ryou thought he could see Bakura, but the sun was shining too brightly to tell. He squinted as his eyes gradually adjusted to the light.

"How are you feeling?" Mr. Bakura asked, looking down at his son with both affection and concern in his eyes.

Ryou returned his gaze, mentally weighing whether he should be truthful or not. Truth won because he didn't want to shock his dad in the event that he would collapse before he even made it to the beach. "This morning was terrible, but I've improved since then."

"If you need me to do anything, just say the word," his dad offered, "I could get you a chair or some water or something."

"I'll be fine," Ryou assured him with a smile.

"I just can't believe you're getting married, Ryou," he said, shaking his head with a smile, "My Ryou is marrying the heir to the Necrophades estate."

"Dad," Ryou said warningly.

"Oh, I'm not trying to talk down on him or anything like that, Son," he assured Ryou, "I'm just so surprised that it's happening so soon. Still, when you're in love…" He trailed off, looking towards the ocean. They were already halfway there. "Ryou, you know how much your mother and I love you, right? Granted, we weren't as open-minded as we should have been these past few years, but I plan on making up for it in the years to come." He cleared his throat, and Ryou thought he saw unshed tears in his father's eyes. "I couldn't be prouder of you, Son. You're the best child a parent could ask for, and I love you exactly the way you are."

Ryou nodded and bit his lip, willing the tears in his eyes to go away. Really, how many times was he going to cry today? More times than he had in his entire life, no doubt. "I love you, too, Dad. You and Mom are really great parents."

They walked the rest of the way in silence, each wrapped up in their own thoughts. Ryou really had grown to love his parents, and he was glad they shared a close relationship. Family was a real comfort to him when he was sick in the hospital, and he would be eternally grateful for their mental support. Now, though, as he and his father walked past the first row of people on the beach, he was also grateful for his father's physical support.

"Easy, Ryou," his father whispered to him as they walked, "Keep a stiff upper lip. You don't need to worry about anyone but the man waiting up front for you."

Ryou looked ahead and locked eyes with his husband-to-be. His mind screamed Bakura's name and his heart began to pound heavily. He was sure everyone would hear it. Why was it so damn loud? His vision swam. He heard his father whisper "easy" to him again, and he attempted to control his panic. Bakura was staring at him with nothing but love in his dark, expressive eyes, and Ryou was sure that his own eyes looked the same way.

He finally got his breathing under control as his father left him standing next to Bakura and went to join his wife and Bakura's parents off to the side. Bakura offered him a smile that he gratefully returned, and they held hands as the ceremony began. He wanted to glance over to the crowd to see where his friends were, but he was held captive by Bakura's stare. The only words he heard the official say were "We are gathered here today". It was amazing how he and Bakura could almost hold an entire conversation just by reading each other's expressions. They were both only half listening to the proceedings; The other half of their focus was solely on the other. Ryou blushed heavily at the look of passion and devotion Bakura was giving him. This truly was the happiest day of his life.

Then, he felt as if he was growing heavier, and the edges of his vision blurred. He looked pleadingly at Bakura, who discreetly slid his hands to Ryou's elbows to offer him more support. His knees felt weak, but he shut his eyes and commanded his body to cooperate with him for a few more minutes. They had planned a short ceremony, after all, so it would be over soon. He looked up into Bakura's eyes, mere inches from his own, and saw himself reflected in them.

"Do you, Bakura Necrophades, take Ryou Bakura to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the official asked.

"I, Bakura Necrophades, take you, Ryou Bakura, to be my lawfully wedded husband. I promise to always cherish you, protect you, provide for you, and love you and only you for as long as I live," Bakura vowed, voice taking on a heavy tone that tugged at Ryou's heartstrings. "I will remain devoted to you forever, and nothing will ever come between us. On my life I swear it to you, my life partner."

"And do you, Ryou Bakura, take Bakura Necrophades to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I, Ryou Bakura, take you, Bakura Necrophades, to be my lawfully wedded husband," Ryou began in a quiet voice, gradually building up his volume to a normal tone when he was sure he wouldn't break out into sobs, "I promise to always care for you, support you, and love you with all of my heart for the rest of my life." He took a breath and continued, "I will laugh with you and cry with you, share with you the good times as well as the bad, and give you my heart forever."

A few sniffles were heard from the crowd as they finished their vows. Ryou heard the official continuing to talk, but before he could register what had been said, he felt Bakura's lips on his own and his mind shut down. The kiss was soft and full of unspoken promises. Ryou molded his body to Bakura's, letting himself abandon the formality of the ceremony for a few seconds as the reality of what had just happened hit him.

They broke apart and turned to face the crowd, hand in hand with matching smiles on their faces.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Mr. and Mr. Bakura Necrophades!" the official called over the cheering of the crowd.

* * *

A little while later, Bakura and Ryou sat at a lavishly decorated, round table in the dining room while the catering service they had hired went about setting up a buffet table laden with all sorts of dishes. Yami, Yuugi, Marik, Malik, Anzu, Miho, Honda, Otogi, and Jounouchi were also sitting at the table with them. Ryou was smiling brightly as all of his friends gave him their congratulations. He was so happy that everyone he loved was finally all together in one place to celebrate. His friends also had decided to fill him in on everything that had happened while he had been away from school.

Otogi had just finished telling him about how totally unfair it was that their school's principal had banned midriff tops when the caterers announced that the buffet was open. Immediately, Jounouchi and Honda raced for the line, making everyone at the table laugh at their antics. "I'd better go catch Honda," Otogi said, excusing himself from the table, "He might take all of the food!"

Anzu and Miho went next. "You did tell them to provide salad, right, Ryou?" Anzu asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and glancing around suspiciously, "Miho is watching her weight again, you know."

"Come on, Zuzu!" Miho protested, grabbing her friend's hand and hauling her away, "Why do you have to lie to our friends? No one cares that you're on a diet."

"They haven't changed a bit," Ryou remarked. Everyone nodded their agreement.

After Yuugi, Malik, Yami, and Marik left, Bakura turned to Ryou. "Can you stand up alright? You had me worried during the ceremony," he said, brushing the pad of his thumb across Ryou's knuckles gently, "You didn't tell me you weren't feeling well."

"I didn't want to ruin our wedding, Bakura," Ryou replied. "Besides, I'm perfectly alright! It was just that one dizzy spell," he lied, brushing off his new husband's comment. To prove his point, he stood up from his seat quickly. "Let's go get food before it's all gone."

They walked up to the buffet line together, but Bakura remained a step behind him the whole way, almost as if he was waiting for Ryou to fall over. Granted, he had good reason to be concerned, but that didn't mean Ryou couldn't be in a snit about it. The teen walked confidently over to the line and grabbed a plate, ignoring the fuzziness at the edges of his vision. Why did his body have to be out of whack today of all days?

Bakura put a hand on his shoulder, and Ryou looked up at him. "Go back to the table right now," Bakura commanded. When Ryou merely scowled darkly at him, he tried a more reasonable tone. "Let me take care of this."

"I told you, I'm fine," Ryou insisted, expression determined. He whipped his head back around and stumbled forward. Like a flash, Bakura's arm shot out and wrapped around Ryou's middle, keeping him from falling. He gave his husband a sheepish look. "Maybe I will sit down for a little bit."

After pecking Bakura on the lips, he left the line and went back to his seat. It just wasn't fair that all of his friends got to enjoy the reception more than he did himself. He mentally berated himself as soon as that thought flashed through his mind; he was enjoying himself plenty. He had just gotten married to a devilishly handsome, rich, athletic guy who was adamant about seeing his every whim catered to, and all of his closest friends as well as his family were there to see it happen. On top of that, he was perfectly healthy, never mind the odd dizziness or weakness every now and again. What he lacked in physical strength, he made up for in personality.

Before his thoughts could turn too narcissistic, Malik returned to the table, a playful smile on his face. "Already have him whipped, Ryou?"

* * *

"And now, will the grooms please come forward and share their first dance," the D.J. announced, and everyone in the room applauded.

A slow, delicate piano solo began to play, and Ryou's face lit up as he recognized Malik's playing; he always loved how his friend played the piano. The song didn't sound familiar, so he guessed it was another one of Malik's original compositions.

Bakura took his hand and led him to the center of the dance floor. They shared a gentle kiss before melting into each other and swaying to the achingly beautiful melody. Ryou rested his head on Bakura's chest, not caring how odd their height difference looked; his head nearly made it to his partner's shoulder. Bakura kissed the top of his head and murmured, "I love you".

"I love you, too," Ryou replied and straightened up. He could hear the telltale sounds of Malik beginning to speed up the song. Bakura quirked an eyebrow at Ryou, who nodded his head definitively.

They began twirling around the room as Malik picked up his tempo. Now it sounded light and airy, and the couple matched it with their steps. Bakura had one hand in Ryou's and his other arm was locked firmly around his waist. The shapes of the people watching around them became brightly colored blurs as they spun, and Ryou couldn't help but laugh. He was having the time of his life. Really, he hadn't known how much fun being married could be.

The song began to slow again, and other couples joined them in dancing, wanting to share in the moment. To his left, Ryou could see Yami leading a wary and most likely unwilling Yuugi out onto the floor. To his right, and he had to laugh a little at this, Honda was trying to persuade Otogi to dance with him. Everyone knew Honda had two left feet. After a few seconds, Otogi conceded, but not after he gave Honda the fastest, deepest kiss Ryou had ever seen.

He could also see Anzu and Miho being led out onto the floor by some well-bred associates of his new in-laws. They were much older gentlemen, but Anzu and Miho didn't seem to mind. In fact, that might have been their plan all along.

Malik's song picked up again, this time a heavier melody that sounded almost like pop, and all of the couples were whirling around this time. Bakura picked Ryou up by his waist and lifted him up, spinning him in a circle a few times before putting him back down. Ryou was breathless with joy. He grabbed hold of Bakura's collar and pulled him down, kissing him soundly right there on the dance floor in front of everyone. When they parted, Ryou was giggling. "You're doing it again, Bakura," he scolded his husband happily.

"Doing what?" Bakura asked in mock-innocence, as if to say "I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about, oh crazy husband of mine!", taking hold of one of Ryou's hands to spin him around in place.

They melted together again, only this time Ryou wound his arms behind Bakura's neck and stood up on his tip toes on Bakura's feet so they were face to face, noses touching. "Making me fall in love with you all over again, of course."

Bakura kissed him hotly, sliding their tongues together sloppily and causing Ryou to gasp and pull away. "Bakura!" he exclaimed, looking around frantically in case anyone was watching.

"No one was looking," Bakura assured him cheekily, spinning him around again even though Ryou was still standing on him.

Ryou's head began to pound a steady beat, making him subconsciously clutch at Bakura's shoulders. He tried to shake it off, forcing an even smile as they danced slowly along with the ever-changing tempo of the song, but it attacked him relentlessly. As the song ended, Bakura lowered his body in a dip that left the tips of his hair brushing the floor. Everyone cheered for them, and Ryou's head exploded with pain. He was pulled back up by Bakura, who swung him up into his arms and carried him off the floor and over to their table.

With Bakura's help, Ryou lowered himself into his chair with a sigh. "My God," he swore, massaging his temples gingerly, "Where did that come from?"

"You're fragile," Bakura stated carefully yet matter-of-factly, "You've had a long day. Honestly, I'm surprised you lasted this long."

"I need aspirin," Ryou moaned, holding his head in his hands, "Please, Bakura."

Bakura was back before Ryou even knew that he had left with a white pill in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Ryou accepted them gratefully and washed the medicine down, leaning back in his chair and putting a hand over his eyes. "That was some dance," he remarked, needing to take his mind off of the pain, "I didn't know you could dance. I didn't even know I could dance!"

"I didn't know I could, either," Bakura replied, "It guess it just felt natural, spinning you around like that."

"I bet everyone was jealous of me with my new husband," Ryou remarked, putting his hand down and looking at Bakura curiously. "That's strange to say. Bakura Necrophades, my new husband."

"Doesn't it seem like just yesterday that we were just meeting each other?" Bakura asked, taking Ryou's hand and using his thumb to rub circles into his palm, "Remember our first date?"

"Are we counting the party as the first date or the restaurant you took me to?" Ryou asked, remembering both with a grimace. He hadn't exactly had much fun at either one.

"The party, definitely," Bakura said, "Hell, who would have thought that Anzu, the girl me, Yami, and Marik tried our hardest to avoid for three years, would end up coming to our wedding." He shook his head, a wry smile on his face.

"You know what I just thought of?" Ryou asked, eyebrows furrowing, "What are we going to do now?"

Bakura raised both of his eyebrows in question. "Huh?"

"I mean, what are we going to do now?" Ryou repeated more forcefully, "With us being married but going to school in two different countries. Because I'm sure not leaving Yuugi and Malik now after we're finally all together again."

"Oh," Bakura said, silenced for a moment. His thoughts were almost visible on his face. He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, as if the answers were written up somewhere on the light fixtures. "Well," he tried, but he never got to finish as another thought popped into his head. He shook his hair, actually brushed neatly for once, out of his face. "I guess we'll figure that out when the time comes. Why the hell are you even thinking about school? It's summer, baby. I'm getting dessert while you wait for that aspirin to kick in."

Ryou shook his head in a combination of amusement and amazement as he watched Bakura head for the dessert table. Ditched on his wedding for dessert, and fed a blatant cover-up as an answer to a hard question at that. Along the way, Marik and Yami gravitated towards him, and the three exchanged punches to the shoulder and slaps on the back. Marik even head-butted him. Ryou could have groaned, but instead he smiled. He married Bakura Necrophades: a vulgar, rude, half-spoiled jock. But he loved that vulgar, rude, half-spoiled jock with every fiber of his being.

* * *

Yuugi watched Bakura whirl Ryou around on the dance floor with tears sparkling in his eyes. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Ryou Bakura. Or, he supposed with a smile, Ryou Necrophades. The couple molded to each other's bodies as the song slowed down. Yuugi sighed and was about to dramatically put a hand to his heart when he felt himself being tugged forward.

"Yami, no," Yuugi protested, pulling back. There was no way his fiancé was getting him to dance, even though it was to the song Malik had written especially for the three of them. They had talked about the wedding at length a few weeks ago, and Malik had revealed that he was writing a song for Ryou and Bakura's first dance at the reception. Yuugi could do many things well, but dancing wasn't one of them. The idea of stepping forward onto the dance floor in front of everyone was just plain nerve-wracking. The fact that he would be dancing with the love of his life did nothing to console him. Truth be told, he had never slow danced before, but it just seemed like something so personal to do in front of strangers.

"Please, Yuugi? For me?" Yami pleaded, staring at him forlornly.

That look always got Yami whatever he wanted out of Yuugi, and this was no exception. Yuugi gulped nervously as he was led by the hand out into the open. When Yami put his hands on Yuugi's hips, Yuugi immediately slid his hands slowly up his boyfriend's chest to his shoulders, causing him to shiver. Their chests pressed together, and though the top of Yuugi's head barely came to Yami's collar, they fit together in an undeniably perfect way.

Yuugi was glad to see that other couples were following their lead and joining the dance. By the way Otogi had just plunged his tongue into Honda's mouth and dragged him onto the floor, Yuugi guessed that they were well on their way to becoming a couple. He stifled a laugh when he saw Anzu and Miho wrapped up in the arms of two much older men. They would. They so would.

"See?" Yami said soothingly, using his hands to coax Yuugi's hips into swaying with the music, "This isn't so bad, right?"

"I guess not," Yuugi half-lied, still feeling very self conscious out on the floor but also enjoying dancing to Malik's song. He hid his face in the lapel of Yami's coat.

"You're making too big of a deal out of this, love," Yami chided softly, raising one of his hands to lift up Yuugi's chin, "I hear the music picking up, so follow my lead. Take my hand."

Yuugi did as he was told, and suddenly they were flying. Yami spun him around as fast as their feet would carry them, but it was quite possible that Bakura and Ryou were going faster. At least, they seemed to be. Yuugi really couldn't tell. It was all he could do to keep up with Yami, who looked as if he couldn't be enjoying himself more. Yuugi squeaked as he was suddenly picked up off of the floor. Yami held him up and spun around in place a few times, laughing deeply. Yuugi laughed along, and as he was put back down so that they could keep twirling, he felt like maybe this wasn't so bad, after all.

Yuugi could feel the music slowing down again, and so did Yami, who pulled their bodies flush together. Their arms wrapped around each other and they kissed for all they were worth. They pulled back when they heard people begin to applaud, embarrassed momentarily before they realized the crowd was clapping for Bakura, who was holding Ryou in a very elegant dip. They looked stunning, but Yuugi sensed something was off. He realized with a sharp intake of breath that Ryou was hurt when Bakura carried him off the floor with a worried look on his face.

"Will they be alright?" Yuugi asked in concern, moving in sync with Yami as the next song started up: a classical song playing softly over the sound system.

"Might be a good idea to leave them alone for a minute," Yami suggested thoughtfully, pulling Yuugi close to him as they danced, "I'm sure Bakura can handle it for the moment. Besides, they're in love, aren't they? For all we know, they could be having a moment over there or something."

Yuugi mulled this over. It was altogether possible that Ryou didn't need his two best friends to take care of him anymore. Bakura had just promised in his vows to protect and care for Ryou, and no one, least of all Yuugi, had a doubt in their minds that he wouldn't. "Guess so," he conceded finally.

"Ah, you'll have to forgive me, Yuugi, but I want to have a moment, too," Yami said sort of shyly.

"You do?" Yuugi asked.

"Yeah. I mean, why not? I've been meaning to talk to you, anyway," Yami began, "About us."

"Go on."

"You're not mad, are you?" he asked suddenly, worry creasing his brow.

Yuugi looked at him as if he'd just sprouted a third arm. "Why would I be mad?"

"Because I want to wait until you turn eighteen to marry you," Yami continued, still looking worried, "You know I'm only doing it for you right? Because I realize that you-,"

"Shh," Yuugi shushed, cutting him off, "I told you before, and I'll tell you again. I'm totally fine with waiting to get married. It's not a big deal. I'm not insecure enough to think I need a ring to keep you in your place."

Yami looked stunned for a moment. Yuugi stared back into his eyes confidently, proving with his body language that he really meant what he had just said. It was about time he started showing some backbone, anyway.

"Yuugi, I love you," Yami declared, twirling him around briefly in spite of that fact that the song they were dancing to was slow, "It's amazing how I fall more in love with you every single day."

"Oh, Yami, I love you, too," Yuugi replied, practically simpering with how over-enthusiastic his tone was. He moved in for another kiss just as the song ended, and Yami left his side without another word, leaving Yuugi stunned on the dance floor. He felt irritated and offended for a few seconds before he realized that Yami was jogging over to Bakura, who was headed to the dessert table. Then he just felt abandoned and pissed. His brows knit together as he pushed through the crowd to go find Ryou. Revenge was definitely in order here.

* * *

Malik tapped the D.J. on the shoulder, noticing but not caring how very sexy he looked in a suit. Marik looked better, anyway. The D.J. turned to him, microphone in hand, and quirked an eyebrow. "Announce the first dance. I'm playing it on the piano over there," he stated, indicating the baby grand piano set up next to the dance floor.

"Can do," the D.J. replied, giving him a two fingered salute.

Malik walked over to the piano and sat down on the bench, testing a few of the keys idly. The piano was in excellent condition, but not as well maintained as the one he had at home. Still, it would sound very beautiful, of that he had no doubts.

"And now, will the grooms please come forward and share their first dance," the D.J. finally announced, and Malik waited until the clapping died down before he began to play.

He had written this song especially for Ryou, Yuugi, and himself. It was a romantic piece written mainly in the higher octaves of the piano to give it a cheerful sound. He had thought briefly on giving it some darker sections to represent the trials they had all overcome in the past few years, but no one wants to be depressed at a wedding. He glanced over at the dance floor, but he couldn't see who was dancing because of the crowd gathered around it. Oh, well. He busied himself with letting his fingers do a dance of their own. Ever so slowly, he brought the tempo down before building it back up. Now, he was gathering speed and intensity, playing powerful chords in his left hand and letting his right hand pick out the melody with precision and grace. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the crowd had shifted enough to let him see Bakura and Ryou whirling around and laughing together. He smiled, turning his eyes back to the keys as he felt a few tears roll down his cheeks.

He was glad that everyone was having a good time, but he all of a sudden found himself wishing that he could dance with Marik to their song. There wasn't any time to book a sound studio and have the song professionally recorded onto a disc, and Malik had thought that live music would be more special anyway. He cut off the fast section a little abruptly, spiraling down into the slower section again. He hadn't actually meant to do it, but his emotions were influencing his playing. He allowed himself a brief moment to throw in some more melancholy chords before returning to his light, airy melody. If only he had written this song sooner, then maybe they would have gotten to record it.

He was about to cast another longing look at the dance floor when he felt a strong arm on his waist. A glance using his peripheral vision told him that Marik had just sat down next to him. "Hi," he greeted briefly with a small smile.

Instead of a reply, Malik received a hot, open mouthed kiss on his collarbone, right at the juncture of his shoulder and neck. He gasped quietly, and the pace of his song sped up slightly. Marik continued to press sinful kisses on his neck and even pulled at the collar of his shirt in order to gain access to more of the teen's tanned skin.

"Oh, hell," Malik breathed, finding it harder and harder to focus on his playing. He let the tempo speed up to as fast as he could possibly play it, giving it one last burst of energy before finishing with a last rendition of the original melody, the slowest and most beautiful version of it yet. Marik straightened up and let him finish playing the song.

As soon as the crowd began to cheer for the couples that had danced, Marik's mouth was on Malik's, and no one noticed as they stumbled outside and back onto the beach. Marik lowered Malik slowly down to the sand and slid his hands up under his dress shirt, making the teen squirm. "Marik," he gasped, his moan of surprise giving in to a groan of pure lust as Marik's hips bore down on his own.

"You looked like you needed me," Marik stated simply, biting down harshly on the soft skin just under Malik's collarbone and making him cry out, "And, in case it wasn't obvious, I need you, too."

The rough treatment was sending him over the edge and fast. Marik covered his mouth as he quickly undid the button on Malik's dress pants, pulled them down, and took his entire length into his mouth at once. Malik couldn't help it; he screamed. Marik's hand muffled the sound as well as his frantic gasps and pleas for more. He bucked his hips before he could hold himself back, but Marik didn't seem to mind. Nor did he seem to mind it when Malik tangled his fingers in his hair a pulled hard as he hit his climax.

Marik rolled onto the sand next to him and simply watched him as he tried to gather the energy to move. God, but that was fantastic. Everything about Marik was fantastic, really, not just his skill in bed. Or, Malik added mentally, on the beach. He opened his mouth to speak, taking a few seconds to gulp in the salty air. "Marik," he said simply.

"Malik," Marik replied smoothly as if he hadn't just ravaged the blond next to him so completely.

"We should get married, too," Malik said suddenly before he could stop himself. He rolled onto his side, looking into Marik's eyes with hope and fear.

Marik looked surprised, but not in a bad way. "You want to?"

Malik matched his expression. "You thought I didn't?"

"It never came up."

"Yes it did. On the plane."

"I didn't know you wanted to get married."

"I agreed to come live with you, didn't I?"

"Those are two separate things altogether."

"Not really."

"Yeah really."

"So you do want to get married, don't you?"

"I didn't say that. I just don't see how a piece of paper and a couple of rings say that we love each other."

They both fell silent. Malik looked crestfallen while Marik looked apologetic.

"I'm sorry. We can get married if you want to."

"You have to want it, too, jackass."

"Malik, wait!"

As Malik was attempting to storm off in a huff, as was his custom whenever they fought, he was roughly tackled back down to the sand. When Marik's body slammed into his back, all the wind rushed out of his lungs. He struggled for air, starting to panic when he couldn't draw breath. Marik, having officially lost his mind, began shaking him by the shoulders. "Malik, fuck, I'm so sorry! Baby, of course I want to marry you!"

Air surged into his lungs, and he gasped as he finally was able to breathe again. He crawled into Marik's lap and rested his head on his boyfriend's large shoulder. "I'm all of a sudden very glad that I don't play football."

"It was instinctive. Shit. I'm so, so sorry, Malik," Marik apologized sincerely, wrapping his arms around the teen, "I was being stupid. Of course I want to marry you."

"I just want to be with you forever, and I know that can happen without getting married, but what about when your career takes off?" Malik asked worriedly, biting on his fingernail for a few seconds before realizing just what he was doing to his manicure. "People are going to want you; cheerleaders, actresses, singers, and everyone else with access to you is going to try to make you theirs. Nobody would mess with you if you had a ring."

Marik kissed the top of Malik's forehead. "I wouldn't pay attention to them anyway. But don't worry, I'm going to propose to you; I'll make it all right. Just not right now. I really want cake."

And without another loving word or caress, Marik dumped Malik onto the soft sand, got up, and went inside.

Malik huffed indignantly, jumping up and chasing after him. "I wasn't finished with you!" he mentally yelled. As soon as he walked inside, he saw Marik rushing to catch up to Bakura and Yami, who were headed for the dessert table. Really. Leaving him for fancy cake. He shook his head, wondering how he would ever last forever with that inconsiderate, pigheaded man that just so happened to be the love of his life.

* * *

"Gentlemen," Bakura announced grandly to his two friends, "Feast your eyes upon the greatest cake known to mankind."

Yami and Marik both had to say they agreed; it was a pretty impressive cake. It was impossibly tall; six tiers high, to be exact, and covered in creamy white frosting. Marzipan rosettes decorated the walls of the cake as well as icing piping that circled the cake in a looping pattern, and on the top of it all stood two mini figurines of Bakura and Ryou. "Real butter cream icing, half chocolate half vanilla, and those little rose things are straight from Germany," Bakura said proudly.

Yami could feel his mouth begin to water. He had seen Yuugi in the kitchen a few times baking this cake for the wedding, but he had always been shooed out before he could get a good look at it. "God damn," he murmured, staring up at it with reverence.

Marik thought he was going to cum in his pants. He'd never seen anything more beautiful in his life. "Holy fucking shit," he swore happily, reaching out to scoop off some icing.

Yami's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. "Don't touch it, dumbass."

"Awwwh, why not?" Marik whined, struggling fruitlessly to get his hand out of Yami's grasp. Bitch had a grip like a panther.

"Because it's a wedding cake. Ryou and Bakura have to cut it together," Yami stated as if he was talking to a five year old.

"But why?" Marik complained as if he was a five year old.

"I think that's going to be a problem," Bakura said with dread in his tone, pointing at something behind them.

The other two turned around to see what he was talking about. There stood Ryou, Yuugi, and Malik, wearing matching smirks and looking vengeful.

"Thought you could just ditch us for cake, huh?" Malik asked.

"You can't have any of that without me, dear," Ryou said sweetly.

"Oh, Yami, you should know better than to leave someone alone on the dance floor," Yuugi chastised.

They all put their hands on their hips. Yami, Bakura, and Marik blanched.

Yes, sir, it was going to be a long, long forever.

* * *

**A/N:**

How 'bout the epilogue being my longest chapter yet? Weighing in at 17 pages tall and roughly 8,000 words heavy, this would be the behemoth chapter. And I just couldn't resist reviving the one-liner humor that SFLE was loaded down with.

I'm going to miss you all so much! I can't believe this is the end. I honestly can't. It's going to hit me later, and I'm going to cry like a little bitch. But until then, my dearest readers, I'll leave you this message: I will never, ever forget all the valuable lessons writing SFLE/SFLS has taught me, so long as you remember that this couldn't have been made possible without your contribution. Be you a reviewer or just a reader that always comes back but never steps out of the shadows, never forget that I love you from the bottom of my heart and will always appreciate the gift you've given me: your attention. For the last time… THANK YOU, SEXY READERS!

Yours Forever,

-Classy Venus


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